


Love for a Child

by admlynch



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: High School AU, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Magic AU, Normal AU, anxiety tw, childhood AU, death tw, dw my boys end up okay in the end, hurt comfort, just like.... Normal people without magic AU, really gay 5 ever, slow-burn, so much pining, swimmer simon, through the life au, underage drinking tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7926403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/admlynch/pseuds/admlynch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon and Baz are best friends forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

****

**_EIGHT YEARS OLD_ **

 

There was a new boy in Baz’s class that year. He had blonde hair and blue eyes and skin at least three shades lighter than his own. The boy was pretty and Baz kept on watching him because there weren’t many new students- but when the other boy caught him staring, Baz went red and whipped his head away. 

 

It went on for a few days like that, Baz watching from afar and wondering what the other boy was like. Did he like chocolate? Did he like films? Did he listen to the local radio station in the car, or did he listen to the bbc? Baz’s mum liked to listen to the local one- she said it had ‘better range’, but his dad liked the bbc. 

 

On monday, Baz was leaning over his story for free writing time, and he glanced up to find the other boy watching him. Their eyes locked for a moment, grey on blue- but the other boy looked away again, leaving Baz disappointed. 

 

At show and tell the next day the teacher made them all sit in a circle to share. Baz still didn’t know the name of the blonde boy. He knew everyone else though- they’d been here last year. There was Agatha with her delicate face and pale hair, Dev with his gap toothed smile, Trixie’s pointy nose and bony knees, Penelope’s glasses and loud voice that echoed through the cafeteria. Baz knew them all- they’d been in his class last year. Now it was third year, and no one else seemed as curious about the other boy as he did. 

 

“Simon,” The teacher coaxed. “It’s your turn to share.” 

 

Baz’s head shot up from the drawing in his lap, and he tried to look like he’d been paying attention the whole time. Of course, he hadn’t been paying attention at all- but  _ now  _ he was because he didn’t know anyone named Simon. 

 

The blonde boy sat up excitedly, practically bouncing. “I brought in Zip!” He turned to pull something out of his backpack and, Zip, it seemed, was a dragon plush. Baz liked it. The dragon was cute, with red scales and big eyes- he wished he had one himself, except maybe he’d want his to be blue. 

 

“Can I see?” Baz asked the question from across the circle, and the teacher turned to scold him. 

 

“Basil, what do we say?” 

 

“Can I see your dragon  _ please _ .” Baz corrected himself. “He’s pretty.” 

 

“Zip is a  _ she _ .” Simon said- turning his nose up. “If you apologize you can hold her- but only for a minute.” 

 

“I’m sorry.” Baz said automatically, and held his hands out for the stuffed dragon. The other boy passed the dragon over suspiciously, and Baz gently stroked the soft fabric of the animal’s hide. “Thank you.”  

 

“You’re welcome.” Simon said, and allowed Baz to hold the dragon a moment longer before pulling it back into his arms. 

 

“Agatha,” the teacher continued. “You’re next.” 

 

So, show and tell went on. Nothing was as cool as Simon’s dragon, even though Penelope brought in peanut butter biscuits and Agatha brought in a picture of her horse. Baz  _ did _ eat one of the biscuits, but really, he wasn’t paying attention to show and tell. He  _ was _ paying attention to the piece of paper in his hands. It had the beginnings of a blue dragon on it, even though the dragon looked like a blue scribble with spiky wings. Baz frowned at it. He’d been looking back and forth at Simon’s dragon the whole time, trying to make them match. They  _ didn’t _ match. How was he supposed to impress the other boy with this?

 

The plan was to make the drawing, give Simon the drawing and then… Baz realized he hadn’t thought that far. What happened when he gave Simon the drawing? Did that make them friends?  _ Could  _ they be friends? Baz looked over at the other boy, who was attentively watching the teacher, like a good student. Baz  _ really  _ wanted to be friends.

 

He looked down at his drawing again, and then back at the dragon. If he tilted his head to the side, and squinted a bit- they were almost the same. It was good enough for Baz. 

 

At lunch, he saw the other boy sitting across the cafeteria, by himself. Baz couldn’t tell what he was eating- but it didn’t look like much. Maybe he didn’t have anything there at all. Baz decided he would go talk to Simon, because no one should be eating alone. Plus, if he really didn’t have any food Baz would share his scones with Simon. His mum always made cherry scones for his lunch- ever since he was in nursery school.

 

Baz stood from his table, grabbing his lunch box and the drawing of the dragon- before crossing the room with a new determination. No one seemed to be paying attention to Baz’s sudden departure from the table- except for Penelope, who glanced up from her sandwich and followed Baz’s gaze across the room. 

 

He was already there before she could stop him, and Simon’s head snapped up as Baz set down his lunch box with a gentle thud. 

 

“I made you this,” Baz said, thrusting the drawing towards Simon. “If you want it.” 

 

The other took it from Baz’s hands gently, with a slightly reverent look on his face. “For me?” Simon had never gotten a gift from anyone before, and even if he couldn’t quite tell what it was- he was touched. 

 

“Yeah,” Baz replied, shifting closer to look at the drawing with Simon. “Do you like it?”

 

“What is it?” Simon asked, and the other boy bristled. 

 

“It’s a  _ dragon _ ,” He pointed to the wings. “See?” 

 

“Oh.” Simon tilted his head a bit, and squinted his eyes to get a better look at the drawing. “She looks kind of like Zip.” 

 

Baz beamed. “I haven’t named her yet, do you want to help?” 

 

“Sure!” Simon leaned forwards over the drawing, examining it with deep concentration. His eyes scanned the scraggly blue lines, and hastily sketched eyes that had to be an afterthought. After a long moment of consideration, he looked up at Baz. “I think we should name her Fish.” 

 

“Why?” Baz asked, confounded. Was his drawing really that bad? Did it look like a fish? Did Simon dislike it? He probably  _ did  _ dislike it. Baz frowned-he was confused and slightly offended by Simon’s suggestion. 

 

The other boy noticed Baz’s downtrodden expression, and quickly spoke to re-assure him. “She’s blue, like the sea, and fish live in the sea. She looks like she’d live in the sea, so she should be named Fish.”  

 

“Oh,” Baz said. “I guess that makes sense.” 

“Yeah.” Simon said proudly, smiling at the other boy. “What did you want to name her?”

 

“I don’t know.” Baz admitted, looking away shyly and pulling out his lunchbox. Simon’s stomach growled- he’d forgotten to pack himself a lunch that day, and his mum was away. His dad  _ never  _ made Simon lunch, so he had to do it himself. “Do you want a scone?” Baz asked, passing a napkin full of the most delicious looking scones Simon had ever seen in his direction. He  _ did  _ want a scone. 

 

“It’s okay,” Simon lied. He knew it wasn’t polite to take food from strangers- his Dad had told him so. “I’m not hungry.” Inconveniently, his stomach growled again. 

 

Baz frowned. “You sound hungry.” He looked around Simon for a minute, for any lunch box or tray of cafeteria food. There was none. “Where’s your lunch?” 

 

Simon didn’t have a good answer, so he just shrugged. Baz’s frown deepened, and a furrow appeared on his brow. Simon had a sudden urge to reach out and wipe it away, but he ignored it. “My mum forgot to pack it today.” His dad had also told him it was impolite to say he did all the things he did when his mum was out of town. Like washing his clothes, or doing the dishes, or making his own lunch. 

 

“Do you want some of mine?” Baz asked. “I have extra.” He pulled out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a yogurt, a large packet of crisps- and then the scones, which were already placed on the table between them. Simon opened his mouth to politely decline, but Baz shoved a scone into his hand. 

 

“I have too many of those, anyways.” He said. “My mum thinks if she gives me extras I can give them to my friends.” 

 

_ To my friends. _ Simon didn’t have any friends here, all the other students avoided him in the hallways for some reason. It was probably because he was new, but he couldn’t think of anything he’d done to scare them off. Here Baz was, offering him scones and a blue dragon- more than anyone else had offered in a long while. Did that make Baz his friend?  _ Could _ Baz be his friend?

 

Simon took the scone. “Does this mean we’re friends?” It was a cherry scone, he noticed. It looked like it would be crunchy on the outside, and soft on the inside- not like the dried scones his dad brought home sometimes. Really, it looked delicious, but he still didn’t take a bite.

 

“If you want.” Baz replied, and he could feel his cheeks burning. He  _ really  _ wanted to be friends with Simon. He took a scone off the napkin between them, and brought it up to his mouth, taking a bite. Simon still hadn’t taken a bite of his, and was looking at the scone longingly, but also guiltily. “Try it.” Baz coaxed, and took a bite of his own. The scones were the perfect mix of sweet and salty with the cherries, and his mother always added a hint of vanilla to them. It was her trade secret. “They’re really good, I promise.” 

 

“Okay,” Simon finally said, and took a bite. And then he took another bite, and another after that, spilling crumbs down his shirt. Baz had been right, the scones  _ were  _ really good. Simon had never had a scone like this, and he quickly realized he’d almost finished his- and Baz still had almost an entire one left. He put his scone down- half eaten- on the table. “How do you have so much left?” Simon asked, a mix of jealousy and awe in his voice.

 

Baz shrugged. “I eat them slowly, but you really don’t have to- there’re more anyways.” Simon brightened at the other boy’s words, and took another bite of his scone. It was gone in less than a minute, and this time when Baz passed another scone to Simon- he didn’t protest. 

 

The two boys ate in comfortable silence, and after the first scone Simon didn’t acknowledge Baz giving him the food- or what it meant. Simon liked Baz, he seemed nice and he had pretty black hair, with tan skin that looked sort of like that pinkish metal they had in fancy jewelry stores. Simon wiped the crumbs on his mouth off on his sleeve, and stuck a hand out to Baz. 

 

“I’m Simon.” 

 

“I know,” Baz said, taking Simon’s hand and shaking it. “My name’s Baz.” 

 

Simon smiled. “Do you want to be friends?”

 

….

 

Simon didn’t know where his friend was- which he supposed, was the point of the game. He was at Baz’s house, and they were playing hide and seek- despite the fact that there were only two of them. Natasha- Baz’s mum, was in the kitchen. She was the head of the fancy school down the road, and when Simon first met her, he thought she was intimidating- even a little scary. That changed about fifteen minutes later when Natasha revealed the fact that while she was a strict headmaster during school hours, she was a baker and a sweet mum the rest of the time. She’d ruffled Baz’s hair and picked him up, showering him with kisses while he squirmed- because that’s what little boys do, before proceeding to shoo them away so she could make scones. 

 

“Mrs. Pitch?” Simon asked, poking his head into the kitchen. He knew technically it was cheating, but he asked anyways. “Do you know where Baz is?” 

 

“No,” She said, winking at Simon. “Why would I know where he’s hiding?” She gestured towards the stairs. “I have no idea.” 

 

Simon’s face broke into a grin. “Okay Ma’am, sorry to bother you.” 

 

“Simon Snow,” Natasha said, turning all the way around from her position at the kitchen island. “You’re  _ never _ a bother.” She gave him a tender smile- he was the first real friend Baz had ever made, and they seemed good for eachother. Her son seemed happier, and Natasha liked Simon for it. “Now go find my Basilton, alright?”

 

“Yes Ma’am!” Simon said, and ducked his head out of the kitchen. 

 

The two boys had gone directly from Baz and Simon to  _ BazandSimon _ , inseparable. The two boys had met in late august, and now two months later- it seemed like Simon was a permanent fixture in Baz’s universe, and Baz in Simon’s. They saw each other every day in school, and most afternoons Simon came over to Baz’s house after classes- like today. 

 

Only in year four, they were too young for much homework- besides the occasional multiplication worksheet that got sent home, or assignments to read twenty pages of whatever they chose. Most of the time they spent playing, either in the house like today- or around the manor. It was a small town, and soon after Simon and Baz met they found out that they biked the same way to get home each afternoon. 

 

Baz’s house was first- with a long, tree-lined driveway leading up to the stately old house. It would’ve looked dark and gothic if not for all the gardens and plants that sprung to life in their sprawling yard. The inside wasn’t nearly as intimidating- it was warm and welcoming, with pictures absolutely everywhere. There were piles of papers on the kitchen table, and succulents sitting in the window soaking up the sun. It had that cluttered sense of being  _ lived _ in. The staircase on the way up to Baz’s room had framed pictures up the entire wall, of his mum and dad, plus him and his little sister, Mordelia. She was only four. 

 

Simon’s house was past Baz’s house, down at least two winding dirt roads before you turned in the rocky driveway. His house wasn’t nearly as nice- it was smaller and plainer, and the inside was as plain as the outside. It wasn’t dilapidated or anything, but unless you looked in the closets you wouldn’t think anyone really lived in it. There weren’t any pictures on the walls- only generic paintings his father picked out at ikea. His father didn’t like a mess, and the only place in the whole house that  _ really _ looked lived in was was Simon’s bedroom. He kept the drawing Baz made him tacked up on the far wall, so it was the first thing he saw in the morning, and the last thing he saw every night before he went to bed. Where Baz’s fridge was cluttered with magnets, photos and old drawings, Simon’s was bare. 

 

Baz’s house felt like  _ home _ , and Simon’s just felt like a house. 

 

It was natural why they chose to play at Baz’s house when Simon’s was like  _ that. _ Plus, when it was sunny there was nothing more fun than exploring the many gardens on the grounds of the old estate. They were often wreathed in mist, and Baz and Simon could only get so far before being creeped out by the tall bushes and slender, cobblestoned walkways. It generally ended with them running back to the house because they thought they heard something, even though of course, there was nothing in the garden. Today however, it was raining lightly- so they were stuck inside playing hide and seek. Baz was much better at hiding than Simon, who had been caught in under five minutes. 

 

Simon checked Baz’s room, the kitchen, the den,  _ and _ the study before he thought to check the music room. He found Baz hiding behind the piano after fifteen minutes of exploring the sprawling house. 

 

“Finally,” Baz sighed dramatically. “What took you so long?” 

 

Simon rolled his eyes. “Your house is ginormous, Baz, did you expect me to find you in five minutes?” 

 

“I found  _ you  _ in five minutes.” Baz retorted, and the golden haired boy rolled his eyes  _ again.  _ At least he found Baz at all, once he played hide and seek with his mum and she forgot about him- hidden under the butterfly bush in their front yard, right when they first moved.

 

“Whatever,” Simon replied, grabbing Baz’s hand and pulling him along. “Your mum is making scones.” 

 

“I thought she was making biscuits.” Baz said, raising an eyebrow at Simon. The other boy tried to think back to  _ what _ exactly he’d seen Natasha baking in the kitchen, and came up empty. He just knew she was baking  _ something _ , and knowing her it would be mouth-wateringly good. Simon had assumed scones though, because they almost always had scones. 

 

“I thought she was making scones,” Simon said. “But maybe I was wrong.” 

 

Baz shrugged. “I don’t know.”  

 

“Well,” Simon replied, still pulling Baz by the hand. “Whatever it is, it’ll be good.”

 

Simon was right about that. Natasha was an excellent baker, and probably could have gone on the great british bake off if she wanted to. It turned out, she didn’t make scones  _ or _ biscuits, she made brownies with chunks of chocolate in them- and the boys burned their tongues on them because they just couldn’t wait. Natasha passed them both tall glasses of ice water, sitting around the kitchen table.

 

“My tongue hurts.” Baz said, pouting, and his mother smoothed back his hair. 

 

“That’s what happens when you eat hot food, little puff. I told you to wait.” 

 

“I know.” Baz mumbled. “I’m sorry Mum.” He felt guilty about disobeying her, and it showed plainly on his face.

 

“I burnt my tongue too.” Simon offered, in an attempt to make Baz feel better. 

 

“See?” Natasha said. “Everyone burns their tongues sometimes, but now you boys know not to eat brownies fresh out of the pan.” 

 

“Yes Ma’am.” Simon said, nodding

 

“Well,” Natasha said, rising and brushing off her jeans. “I’m going to go work for a little while, but I can come drive you home before dinnertime, Simon.” 

 

“It’s okay,” Simon said. “I can ride my bike back home.”

 

“Are you sure?” She replied, and a furrow appeared in her brow- the same one Baz got when he was worried. “It’s starting to get cold out, and it’s raining.”

 

“I’ll be fine, Mrs. Pitch,” Simon assured her. “The rain is letting up, and I rode my bike out here anyways.”

I'm 

“Well,” Natasha paused, unsure. “I suppose that’s fine. But be safe, okay? I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” 

 

“I will.” Simon promised, and she gave him a smile.

 

“I love you, Mum.” Baz said, and she leaned down to give him a kiss on the forehead. 

 

“I love you too, Basil,” She replied. “You boys have fun, alright?”

 

“Alright!” They chorused, and Natasha smiled as she exited the kitchen, leaving them with their glasses of water and the pan of brownies. 

 

“My tongue still hurts.” Baz said, as soon as she was out of earshot. 

 

“Mine too.” Simon admitted, he hated burning his mouth on food.

 

“Worth it though.” Baz grinned fiendishly. Simon grinned back- they were partners in crime.

 

“Yeah, worth it.” 

….

 

“I’m home!” Simon called, and he’d seen their cars in the driveway, so he knew his parents were home too, but no one made a sound. 

 

He didn’t expect them to say anything, so the silence didn’t hurt. He could hear his father typing in his office, but he didn’t know where his mum was. Simon could look for her later, after he put his backpack away and took a shower.

 

It was about five o’clock when he left Baz’s house, so by now it would be around five fifteen, which gave him plenty of time to shower and attempt to read before dinnertime at six. So Simon dropped his backpack on his bed, kicked off his sneakers (and then remembered how his dad felt about him kicking off his sneakers) before putting them in his closet. He took a quick shower, just long enough to scrub himself clean with a bar of solid, sweet smelling soap. He avoided his father’s expensive shampoo and conditioner. He avoided doing anything to upset his father, because even when he wasn’t upset with Simon, he was passive aggressive and cold. 

 

Simon knew it was his own fault, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. It didn’t make it hurt any less that his mum never defended him in front of his father, just brushed away his tears afterwards and told him not to make Davy angry again. He loved his mum, but it was hard to like her when she never tried to stop his Dad. That was how it was with his family, sometimes you love people, but you just don’t like them.

 

They had frozen pizza for dinner, reheated in the oven. Lucy said she would make lasagna, but she forgot to buy the ingredients at the store- so frozen food was the only option. 

 

“How was your day?” Simon asked, and the question was directed at his father but he looked down at his plate. He didn’t like to make eye contact with Davy unless he had to- it always felt like  _ looking  _ made it easier to mess up. 

 

“It was fine.” Was Davy’s only response, and Lucy took Simon’s hand under the table, squeezing it gently. He looked up for long enough to smile at her, but Davy was watching Simon too. “What are you smiling at, Simon? Is there something to be smiling about?” 

 

Simon recoiled, shaking his head. His father leaned forwards “Did you get good grades today?” His voice was louder than Simon would’ve liked, and it sounded sharp. “Did you win in any games? No?” Simon shook his head again. “Then there’s nothing to be smiling about, son.” 

 

“David.” Lucy said, quietly- but Davy sent her a cold stare. 

 

“Sorry.” Simon interrupted, before he could mess anything up again. “I’ll do better tomorrow.” 

 

“I should hope so.” His father grumbled, and Simon looked back down at his plate again, the acrid taste of guilt heavy in his mouth. He didn’t really know what his father wanted from him, just that his best never seemed good enough. Lucy took his hand underneath the table- but Simon didn’t smile again.

 

They finished their meal in silence, and Simon wished he’d eaten more brownies at Baz’s house because the pizza tasted like freezer burn, and with his father watching him like that, it made him hesitant to eat as much as he wanted. Simon never took seconds, even when he was hungry- because there would always be some backhanded comment about how he was being greedy, or ‘ _ if you keep on like that, you’re going to gain a few pounds, Si _ .’

 

After dinner, Davy returned to the office- and you could hear the slight tapping of the keyboard all the way in the kitchen. Lucy did the dishes, and Simon sat at the table filling out his multiplication worksheet. His mum wasn’t home very often, he didn’t know exactly what she did- he just knew it involved travelling a lot, and spending most of her time in Manchester or London. She always brought him back sweets from the train station, and once- chocolates from a fancy shop she came across.

 

Simon missed her when she was gone, because when she was home he didn’t have to do everything by himself. If she wasn’t there, he had to do the dishes and the laundry without complaint, or his father would yell until he started shaking. He never had the time to make lunches in the morning- and although Simon didn’t acknowledge it, he was grateful for the food Baz brought him every day. It was never like that first lunch they shared, anymore. Now that the other boy had noticed Simon’s considerable lack of food, he brought in a second sandwich, with crisps and scones- most days. 

 

Lucy sat down at the table with Simon, and took his hand in hers again. Her hands were clammy from the water, but they were warm so Simon didn’t really mind. 

 

“I went to my friend’s house this afternoon.” 

 

“You have a friend?” Lucy asked, surprised. Simon had never talked having a friend before. “What’s his name?” This was the first time she’d been back for more than a day since Simon had met Baz, and he’d quickly decided not to tell his father about his new friend. It wasn’t like Davy cared if he came home four hours later than normal. 

 

“His name is Baz, and he has a really cool house. They have gardens and a music room and his mum let me watch movies!” Simon lit up talking about Baz- his best friend. 

 

“That’s wonderful, Darling,” Lucy said, and tucked one of Simon’s curls behind his ear. 

 

“But I don’t have to tell you not to tell Daddy, right?” 

 

Simon nodded solemnly. “I won’t”

 

“Alright,” Lucy said, and kissed her sons cheek. “I’m glad you have a friend.” She squeezed his hand again. Simon still looked melancholy, so she took his cheek in a hand and turned his face towards hers. “Hey,” Lucy said, softly. “I love you, Simon. You’re my rosebud boy” 

 

Simon smiled. “I love you too, Mummy.” And then he leaned over to kiss her cheek, even though she was much taller- despite sitting in a chair. He really did love his mum, and he was going to be sure to follow her advice. He didn’t want his father to find out about Baz, because Baz was Simon’s favorite secret- and he wasn’t about to let it get taken away from him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz are best friends forever.

**_NINE YEARS OLD_ **

 

Baz and Simon had traditions. They rode their bikes to school every morning, and tried to turn it into a race- until one day Simon almost crashed into a tree, and Baz threw his bike down, running over to make sure the other boy was okay. They were late to school that day, but Simon was okay. He just had a spill- and that afternoon Baz made him ice his bruising knees with frozen strawberries. 

 

Natasha, of course, was horrified- and made them promise not to race down the hill anymore. She didn’t need to make Baz promise, he already decided he wouldn’t- just because he couldn’t bear to see Simon hurt. It wasn’t as big of a deal to Simon, because when he thought of himself, he was  _ just  _ Simon. It didn’t matter if he got hurt, because it was just him- because he didn’t  _ really _ matter. 

 

That’s how he felt at home, at least. With Baz and his family it was different, Baz always wanted him around- and Mordelia, Baz’s little sister, told Simon she thought he was cool. Simon had never been cool before, he’d never been anything but a nuisance and a disappointment. He liked Baz’s family. Natasha was gentle but intimidating at the same time, and Mordelia was a firecracker already. Malcom, Baz’s dad, seemed to be another hardened face in the household- but Natasha softened him. Natasha softened everyone, and yet they were all dark, blazing wildfires. The Pitches lived up to their last name.

 

Simon came over to their house at least two afternoons a week, and he and Baz would hover in the kitchen until Natasha shooed them away, or enlisted their help. Today they  _ were _ making scones, and Simon was excited- because they were his favorite. Baz’s favorites were cinnamon buns, but those were much harder to make and took a long time. 

 

“We can make some on Sunday, okay Basil?”  

 

“Promise?” Baz asked, as Natasha directed the two boys around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients and watching as she stirred them together in the large, blue mixing bowl. 

 

“Of course, Darling.” Natasha replied, smiling. “Simon, can you pass me the butter?” 

 

The golden-haired boy nodded enthusiastically, “Yes Ma’am!” and passed the block of butter over to Natasha, who cut chunks of it into the floury mixture. 

 

“Can Simon help?” Baz asked, ignoring his responsibility of measuring the cherries. His mum rolled her eyes good naturedly, and walked over to her son, smoothing her floury hands on her jeans. Simon expected her to wear the fancy suit jackets and skirts that he saw her wearing all the time- but as soon as she came home she always disappeared to change into jeans and some faded, soft looking jumper. 

 

“How many times do I have to tell you that Simon is always welcome here?” Natasha asked Baz, brushing a lock of the dark hair they shared behind an ear. “You have to ask Simon if he  _ wants  _ to help.” 

 

Baz turned to his friend. “Simon will you come over and make cinnamon buns with us on Sunday?” 

 

Simon rolled his eyes. “What kind of question is that?  _ Yes _ , obviously.” 

 

Baz rolled his eyes right back. At this point, 40% of their friendship was pointed eyerolls and teasing, and the other sixty percent was split evenly between laughing until their ribs hurt, leaning against each other when they got sleepy, and sneaking glances because neither of them could believe they had a  _ best friend _ . 

 

They  _ were _ best friends. They did everything together unless forcibly separated. Homework, chores, playing games- they were even sad together. 

 

….

 

“What happened?” Baz asked, sitting down beside Simon on the brick steps behind school. It was lunchtime, but Simon had somehow wandered off without anyone noticing him- which was a feat because it was primary school, and they were always being watched. 

 

Simon shrugged, sniffling. He’d obviously been crying, but Baz didn’t know why or what he could possibly do about it. “My mum left again.” Simon said. “She has to go away for work a lot, but I  _ miss  _ her.” 

 

Baz didn’t know what he’d do without his mum home all the time- she was the glue that held their family together. When Mordelia was crying and his father got frustrated with Baz and his sister, Natasha always managed to stop him before he blew up. She could always coax Baz into going to bed early, or taking a shower even when he didn’t want to. Natasha could soothe Mordelia, even after the time she lost her prized possession- a pink, plastic dinosaur toy the size of a tennis ball.

 

The only way Baz could think to comfort Simon was leaning his head against the other boy’s shoulder, and taking his hand. “I’m sorry, Simon.” Baz said, squeezing his hand. Simon squeezed back, and they sat in a melancholy silence like that for a few moments- clinging together because that’s just the way they were.  _ Together _ \- they were always together. Baz was shouldering the force of Simon’s sadness, because he knew next time Simon would do the same for him. 

 

Baz was still leaning against Simon’s shoulder, and he was close enough to the other boy that he could smell the scent of corner-store soap, sweet and fresh. Baz sat up, still holding Simon’s hand- but now he was watching the other boy. Watching the way his long eyelashes cast shadows on his cheekbones, or the way his hair seemed perpetually mussed. Simon turned to Baz, and the dark haired boy suddenly felt like he’d been caught in doing something  _ wrong _ . Was it wrong to think your best friend was beautiful? Baz wasn’t sure- but Simon didn’t give him long enough to contemplate it. 

 

“Thank you for being so nice to me.” Simon said, and threw his arms around Baz for a short moment. Baz scoffed. 

 

“That’s what best friends are for, you dork.”  

 

Simon pulled away. “ _ You’re  _ the dork.” 

 

“Yeah,” Baz shot back. “Well you’re the loser.” 

 

“I am not a loser,” Simon said- completely unhurt, back to his restless energy. “You’re the loserly one out of us.” 

 

“ _ loserly _ .” Baz echoed. “Is that even a word?” 

 

“It is for losers like you.” Simon said, a teasing smile twitching at the corners of his lips. 

 

“Whatever,” Baz said- gently shoving the other boy. “You’re a dork.” 

 

“And you’re a nerd.” Simon said, and Baz rolled his eyes.

 

“Fine,” He said, standing and pulling the other boy to his feet. “I’m a  _ nerd _ . Now let’s go back inside before we get in trouble.”

 

“Wow.” was Simon’s response as they walked back through the double doors of the school. “You really are a nerd. Who’d want to go back to class?” 

 

“Shut up.” Baz said, with another eyeroll. Simon grinned. 

 

“Not a chance.” 

 

…..

 

“Simon, have you ever played Mario Kart before?” Baz asked, because Simon was sitting in front of the wii in his living room, looking at it like it was the best thing since sliced bread. Simon shook his head in response. 

 

“Do you  _ want  _ to play Mario Kart?” Baz offered, slumping down on the ground next to his friend. They were leaning against the back of the large, L shaped sofa in Baz’s living room- right in front of the flat screen tv. 

 

“How do you play?” Simon asked, and Baz took the question as a yes, and moved across the room to collect two wii controllers and a dvd that was actually a game. He returned to his friend and handed him the controller, before rising again to pop the disc into the gaming console. Baz sat down next to Simon again, and pointed at the controller

 

“This button makes you go,” Baz said. “And this one makes you use your power ups, and this one is your brakes, but you won’t need those.” 

 

“How do you steer?” Simon asked, and Baz- again pointed out which button (or series of buttons in this case) you used to control the virtual vehicle. 

 

Soon enough they were playing the game, jerking their arms around wildly despite the fact that their arms had nothing to do with it- they just had to move their fingers over the buttons correctly. Baz got the console for his ninth birthday, just a few short months ago. He’d been begging Natasha and Malcom for it since it’s release in november- and luckily Mordelia was interested in it too, or he’d probably never have gotten it. Two children begging was more effective than one- plus, for some reason they listened to her more. It irked Baz, he  _ was  _ the older one.

 

He liked to tease Simon about it- and he only had a few months left to do so, because Simon turned nine in june. This time last year they had started exploring the far gardens of his family’s estate- and then the spent the whole summer inspecting every blade of grass and turning over every rock. Before Simon, Baz had been too scared to go exploring alone- although he’d never admit it to anyone. 

 

Now, together- they were princes of their own little kingdom, almost literally. Last weekend they built a castle out of cardboard boxes in the music room- and no one noticed because Baz’s house was so big that you couldn’t possibly find a use for all the rooms. 

 

They’d filled the fort with blankets, and then Simon made Baz sneak into the kitchen to make popcorn- and Natasha saw Baz leaving the room, giggling and whispering with the golden haired boy. She didn’t bother to stop them- despite seeing their snack. Popcorn was harmless, although if they’d seen  _ her _ , she would have to chastise them. That’s what mums were supposed to do, because really they shouldn’t eat popcorn in the music room, but why did it matter? 

 

They were having fun- sprawled underneath the blankets, watching Pokemon on Baz’s portable dvd player- another birthday gift. The wii was Baz’s favorite though, and seeing Simon beat him at his own game was frustrating. He’d picked his favorite course, Moo Moo Meadows, but Simon was still ahead of him. 

 

“I’m going to win the next one,” Baz boasted. “Just you wait.” 

 

“Okay,” Simon replied. “If you’re going to win, can I pick the course?

 

“Sure.” Baz said- but then instantly regretted it because Simon chose Rainbow Road. Baz was  _ awful  _ at rainbow road. “Oh Simon, could you  _ please _ pick something else?” Baz sighed. “I’m terrible at this one.” 

 

“Nope,” Simon replied, shooting his friend a teasing grin. “You said I could pick the course- and I pick Rainbow Road.”

 

Before Baz could try and click away, Simon had already pressed A and the pre-race cutscene began to play. The dark haired boy groaned, and Mordelia came into the living room- which was horrible timing, because if he was going to lose he didn’t want his little sister to see. She thought Baz was unbeatable at Mario Kart.

 

As it turned out, Baz was really,  _ really  _ beatable at Mario Kart- at least when he was playing against Simon. 

 

“Come on,” Baz insisted. “One more round.” 

 

“No way, loser,” Simon teased. “I have to get back for dinner soon.” 

 

“ _ Simon. _ ” Baz whined, and the blonde boy rolled his eyes. 

 

“Fine, but if I win this one I get to call you a loser until you beat me.” 

 

Baz narrowed his eyes. “That is  _ not  _ a fair trade.” 

 

Simon shrugged. “Then I guess I won’t be late for dinner.” 

 

“Fine,” Baz said, tugging on the hem of Simon’s jeans to get the other boy to sit down again. “But you’re mean.” 

 

“ _ You’re _ mean.” Was Simon’s only response as Baz picked out another course for them to race on- he was looking for an easy one, so he could beat Simon. The other boy had already beaten him at Moo Moo Meadows, which was Baz’s favorite- so he settled for Mushroom gorge.

 

Baz honed his concentration, and focused only on the tv and the controller in his hands. He was going to win. He was going to beat Simon. He c _ ould  _ beat Simon. 

 

Baz did not beat Simon. He finished in sixth place while the other boy finished in second. Baz argued that it wasn’t fair because he  _ had been  _ in first place, but then got hit by a blue bomb and two red turtle shells, knocking him to the back of the virtual pack. 

 

Simon just grinned at his friend. Baz wasn’t upset, really. He just wanted to beat Simon because he said he would. The other boy packed up his things, their small pile of homework and an extra tupperware full of scones shoved into his backpack. 

 

“See you tomorrow,” Simon said- reaching into hug Baz. When he pulled away he grinned at the dark haired boy. “Loser.” 

 

Baz rolled his eyes and shoved the other boy playfully, holding back a fond grin. “I don’t even like you.” He said, and Simon rolled his eyes back at Baz.

 

“That’s a lie.” 

 

_ I know.  _ Baz thought. 

….

 

“Can we do something else?” Simon sighed dramatically, draping himself across a chair in Baz’s living room. It was june, and they were doing their summer reading the week after Simon’s birthday. Baz shook his head, and Simon sighed again. “I  _ hate  _ reading.” 

 

“Shh-” Baz hissed. “You’re not supposed to say that!”

 

“Say what?” Simon asked. “That I  _ hate _ reading?” 

 

“Simon!” Baz said, and the other boy laughed. 

 

“I  _ hate  _ reading.” 

 

“Boys!” Someone said, and Simon turned because Natasha was suddenly in the room. 

“Hate is a very strong word.” He suddenly felt chastised, and looked down guiltily. 

 

“Yes, Mrs. Pitch.”

 

Baz was aghast, and as soon as Natasha left the room- one speech about the word ‘hate’ later- he spoke again. “I told you not to say it!” 

 

“Whatever,” Simon said. “I still-” He paused. “ _ Highly dislike  _ reading.” 

 

The dark haired boy rolled his eyes. “Reading is fun,  _ stories  _ are fun. I don’t know what you’re complaining about- you like films, and they’re basically the same.”

 

Simon sighed again. “I like  _ stories, _ it’s just hard. The words never seem to stick in my head right when I’m reading.”

 

“Oh.” Baz said- he hadn’t thought of the words not making sense, because to him they just  _ did _ . He couldn’t explain why, but they stuck. “I didn’t know it was like that.” Baz continued. “Because they just make sense to me.” 

 

Simon shrugged. “Well, they don’t make sense for me. I have to read the words at least three times before any of it makes sense.”

 

“What about listening?” Baz asked. “Can you listen to stuff?”

 

“I don’t know,” Simon said- sitting up in the chair. “I’ve never tried.” 

 

“I could…” Suddenly Baz was nervous, he didn’t know why. “I could read to you.” 

 

“Really?” Simon asked, brightening. 

 

“Yeah,” Baz said. “Scooch over.” Simon slid over in the giant arm chair, making room for Baz. They were still small enough that they could both fit in, although they’d be a tangle of arms and legs.

 

“What book is it?” Baz asked, and Simon passed him the worn paperback. He read the title aloud. “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's stone.” 

 

“Yeah, Miss Possibelf recommended it,” Simon replied, leaning over Baz’s shoulder to look at the cover. “She said it’s a modern classic.” 

 

Baz made a noncommittal noise that could’ve been agreement, or could’ve just been acknowledgment. Simon rested his chin on the other boy’s shoulder, and waited for Baz to start reading. The dark haired boy cleared his throat dramatically, and smiled to himself because he knew Simon couldn’t see him. 

 

“Chapter one, the boy who lived” Baz said. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense...”

 

Simon and Baz stayed in that chair together until Baz’s voice grew croaky, and their limbs were sore from being pressed so closely together in the chair. They’d become entranced with Harry’s story, and the wizarding world. Their only break was one for scones and lemonade, before returning and squishing into the chair together. 

 

Eventually, they ended up with Baz leaning against one arm of the chair, and Simon leaning against Baz. The golden-haired boy was growing sleepy from the food, and the cadence of his friend’s voice. Sheltered from the sweltering summer heat outside, Baz’s house felt like paradise, and it would be all too easy to close his eyes and take a nap.

 

Simon liked the story though, and that was enough to keep him awake. He liked the magic. He liked the scenes it painted in his head. He liked the descriptions of the food that made him hungry enough that his stomach growled- and they realized it was five and Simon had to be home by five thirty. That night before biking home, Simon made Baz promise not to read any more without him. 

  
Baz put the book down and didn’t pick it up no matter how much he wanted to know what happened next- because he’d rather find out with Simon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> carly is mia at the moment so IM POSTING THIS THING. Y'ALL ARE WELCOME. come yell at me on tumblr at e-li-za.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz are best friends forever.

**_TEN YEARS OLD:_ **

 

Simon’s parents were fighting, and even though they were trying not to make it obvious- Simon could tell. There were too many slammed doors, and too many long silences followed by muffled voices through the walls. Being at home felt like some sort of silent battle- and if he got in their way while they were going at it, even his mum lost her gentle nature. 

 

“Simon,” Lucy snapped. “Not now.” He was tapping her arm, trying to get her attention because it was eight o’clock but she and Davy had been too busy arguing to make dinner- and he was starving. 

 

Simon shrunk away at the tone of her voice- one he usually associated with his father instead of Lucy. His mother saw the look on his face- confused, hurt- and her own expression softened. 

 

“I’m sorry Simon,” She said- tucking one of his curls behind an ear. It was an effort not to flinch away. “But Dad and I need to talk about some grown up stuff.” 

 

“I’m almost ten,” Simon said, pouting. “Why can’t you explain?” 

 

Lucy sighed, and brought a hand up to her forehead- a pained expression on her face. “It’s just grown up stuff, Simon. Nothing to worry about.” She and Davy exchanged a glance over the kitchen table- silently agreeing about one thing- that Simon shouldn’t listen to their conversation.

 

“Why don’t you go take a bath, Simon?” Davy suggested, and the golden-haired boy frowned. He didn’t really want to take a bath- he wanted something to eat. 

 

“I’m hungry.” Simon said, and Lucy sighed. 

 

“I’m sorry, rosebud but we haven’t made anything. Is cereal alright?” 

 

Simon was disappointed, but he nodded anyways- he didn’t want to cause anymore trouble for his parents, he did enough of that by  _ existing _ . Lucy rose from the kitchen table, and rifled through the cabinets to find some cereal-before pouring it and some milk into a bowl. After that, she sent Simon to his room. 

 

Usually, he was never allowed to have food in his room- but this must be a special case.  _ Maybe it’s a big fight _ , Simon thought, before thinking about how  _ all  _ the fights seemed this bad. He wished he could call Baz, he’d memorized the landline number for his friend’s house, but the only phone in his own home was in the living room- and that was too close to his parents.

 

So Simon ate his cereal in silence, and tried to ignore the muffled voices travelling through the walls. 

 

….

 

“Hey Baz?” Simon asked, deliberately looking away- he felt guilty asking Baz for this. “Is there any chance I could stay at your house this weekend?” 

 

“Like a sleepover?” The other boy asked, and Simon nodded in response. “Yeah! I’ll ask my mum.” He was grinning widely- and his teeth seemed such a bright white compared to the sun-warmed honey color of his skin. Simon tried to smile back, and when it turned out weak and flimsy, Baz’s eyebrows drew together- and he got that wrinkle that Simon always wanted to wipe away. He did- he’d wanted to the day they met, but he didn’t know Baz then. You weren’t supposed to wipe away the worries of strangers, but Baz wasn’t a stranger now. 

 

Baz grabbed Simon’s hand as soon as he pulled it away from the other boy’s brow. “Simon, what’s wrong?” The eyebrow crease was back, and this time Simon thought it would be pointless to smooth it away- Baz was definitely going to have a wrinkle there when he got older. 

 

Simon shrugged in response, carelessly- like it didn’t  _ really  _ matter. “Simon.” Baz repeated, and the other boy sighed. 

 

“My parents keep fighting, and I’m sick of it, okay?” Simon looked down at their hands- Baz’s was still on top of his. “I just want a break from it- and I want to spend time with  _ you _ .” 

 

“Okay.” Baz said, quietly. “I’m sorry-” he stopped, unsure how to continue. “I’m sorry your parents are fighting.” 

 

“It’s fine.” Simon said, even though it wasn’t. Even though he was only a fifth year, he’d already learned that there were things you were supposed to say, even if they were lies. Just because it was easier that way, less painful than trying to explain why it  _ wasn’t _ fine.

 

“Hey,” Baz said. “You know I love you right?” Simon almost pulled his hand away,

 

“ _ What? _ ”

 

Baz rolled his eyes. “ _ Friend _ \- love you.” He said. “Like, I don’t want to kiss you or whatever, but I love you kind of like my little sister or my mum- but still different.” 

 

“Different how?” Simon said.

 

“Like..” Baz started. “Like I want to hang out with you all the time, and you never get annoying the way Mordelia does. Other than that it’s mostly the same.” Baz didn’t mention the fact that Simon made his pulse race sometimes- or that he thought the golden haired boy was beautiful. Those were thoughts to be shoved into the back of his mind.

 

“Oh.” Simon said. “Then I love you too.” 

 

Baz squeezed Simon’s hand, and Simon squeezed back- smiling hesitantly. He still felt sad and strange about his parents- but Baz had made him feel a little better. He was  _ loved. _ Simon and Baz didn’t always feel this way, but on days where the sky was gray and the air was too cold and everything just felt  _ wrong _ \- it was them against the world. Simon wouldn’t want anyone else holding his hand, and Baz wouldn’t want anyone else sitting beside him. 

 

….

 

Simon shoved another handful of popcorn in his mouth, and Baz stuck his hand in the bowl between them. They were having a movie marathon, sprawled on the living room floor with piles of pillows and blankets. It had become a tradition- any time Simon thought he couldn’t handle being home for a whole weekend, he slept over at Baz’s house on friday night and stayed until the sun set on saturday. Sometimes he even slept over on saturday nights too, but he hated imposing himself in the Pitch’s house. 

 

No matter how many times Natasha told Simon that she liked when he was around because he made Baz easier to deal with, or Mordelia said that he was funny- Simon always felt like a burden. It felt like too much to ask- he already had the best friend he could possibly dream of- and sometimes Simon felt crushing guilt for accepting their kindness. Sometimes Simon felt like he was taking advantage of their charity.  _ Charity _ \- because what else could it be? 

 

Simon knew that his mother loved him, but he also knew he wasn’t wanted. He couldn’t possibly imagine anyone that wasn’t obligated to love him actually caring- and every time he saw a sign of love or kindness- he immediately passed it off as a lie, or someone pitying him. It took Baz six months to convince Simon that he actually, truly cared- and even then Simon still couldn’t quite believe it; let alone believing Baz’s family wanted him around, too.  

 

Baz was too good to be true, like a daydream or a story that Simon had engrossed himself in completely. Sometimes he actually thought it all  _ was _ a dream, but then Baz would call him a weeble- whatever that meant- and it would be back to:  _ Oh, this is all real. I can have this.  _ Of course, Simon would never tell his friend that he felt this way- that Baz was the earth and Simon was the moon- always in orbit around him. 

 

That wasn’t something you said out loud- that was something you thought to yourself and then shoved into the recesses of your mind, with every other not-quite-right thought you’d ever had. Simon kept those thoughts behind a tight wall in the back of his mind, but sometimes late at night the thoughts would come spilling out across his pillowcase. 

 

Most of them weren’t about Baz- most of them were about himself which just added another thought to the pile-  _ selfish.  _ Simon tried to ignore them- and right now, it was easy. 

 

He and Baz were watching  _ tangled _ \- which Simon had objected to loudly because “It’s a  _ princess _ movie,” and “It’ll be  _ lame _ .”  Baz replied with “It’ll be  _ good _ .” It  _ was _ a princess movie- that much he’d been right about, but it wasn’t lame. It was funny, and the songs were really catchy. When Baz caught him tapping his fingers to the beat of the very first song- he playfully shoved Simon in the shoulder. 

 

“Dork.” Baz said, and Simon scowled back at him. 

 

“ _ Nerd. _ ”

 

“Well,” Baz said. “You’re not wrong.” Simon rolled his eyes at that response even though it was true- Baz was a nerd. He loved maths and social studies- and chose to read books higher than their reading level for  _ fun. _ Once, Baz even made him watch a video on the history of japan- which actually turned out to be pretty entertaining, although Simon would never admit it. 

 

Baz was probably the smartest kid in their class, and he always blew through the homework ten times faster than Simon- which was a constant point of mourning for the golden haired boy. He didn’t know how Baz did it, no matter how hard he worked he couldn’t get his homework done half as fast- but at least Baz helped him. 

 

Simon reached for the popcorn again- but Baz batted his hand away. “We still have at least two more movies, we need to make the popcorn last.” 

 

“We really don’t,” Simon said. “It’s not like popcorn at the cinema- it’s just going to your kitchen and putting another bag in the microwave.” 

 

“Yeah,” Baz replied. “But we only have one box of popcorn.” 

 

Simon rolled his eyes. “Whatever, nerd.”- reaching for the popcorn bowl. Baz batted his hand away again, but Simon shoved past him the third time- and wasted some of his hard-earned popcorn by throwing it in Baz’s face. The other boy spluttered, and threw the scattered kernels back at Simon. It would’ve developed into a full on popcorn-fight, but at that exact moment, Natasha walked past the room- and the boys froze. 

 

She arched a perfect eyebrow. “What are you boys up to?” 

 

“Nothing!” They said at the exact same time, which meant they were obviously up to  _ something _ . Natasha narrowed her eyes at the two boys- who were trying their hardest to keep straight faces instead of bursting into hysterical laughter. Baz paused the movie.

 

“I don’t have to tell you two not to cause trouble.” Natasha said- which was her way of telling them ‘ _ don’t cause trouble.’ _

 

“We won’t,” Baz promised, and then shot a pointed look at his friend. “Will we, Simon?” The golden-haired boy shook his head, but he was biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing. He never was good at keeping secrets. 

 

“Well, I’m heading upstairs,” Natasha said. “You boys have fun- but go to bed before midnight, please? And try not to spill popcorn all over the place.” 

 

Simon’s cheeks flushed, and he nodded vigorously before shooting Baz a look that clearly meant ‘ _ help me. _ ’ He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from laughing if Natasha stayed there much longer. 

 

“Goodnight, mum.” Baz said, and smiled at her with that charming polite smiled he’d already mastered. It was sort of fake, but it could still stop wars. Baz’s  _ real  _ smile could cure cancer- or give Simon cavities, because it was so sweet. 

 

Natasha’s eyebrow arched even higher- she knew what Baz’s ‘leave me alone’ smile looked like- and it was plastered across his face at the moment. Simon was gazing at him unsubtly, and he looked like he was biting his cheeks. Natasha could tell that the boys were up to  _ something _ \- or at least they had been up to something- but it didn’t really matter. They were ten, how much trouble could they really get into?

 

“Goodnight Basil,” Natasha said. “I love you.” 

 

“Mhmm.” Baz hummed, and turned around to press play on their movie again.

 

“Night Mrs. Pitch!” Simon said- and she gave him one of those kind, motherly smiles in response. 

 

“Night, boys.” She said- and then she turned out of the doorway of the living room- and Simon still felt like he had to hold his breath until he heard creaking from the top of the stairs. Only then did he let out a breathy laugh- one he’d been holding in the entire time. Baz shoved him playfully, and Simon flopped over with a loud thump. 

 

“Idiot.” Baz said, and Simon- lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling- rolled his eyes. 

 

“Whatever,  _ nerd _ .” The golden-haired boy replied. “You should’ve just let me have the popcorn.” 

 

“What would be the fun in that?” Baz scoffed, and Simon sat up to shove him, and then they were both lying on their backs, staring at the ceiling. A few long, quiet moments passed that way, listening to the sound of their own breathing- and being aware that they were lying on the floor right next to each other. 

 

“We should probably clean it up.” Simon said, and Baz nodded- but he felt far away. He wasn’t really thinking about the popcorn- he was thinking about how if he moved his hand a little bit he could hold Simon’s- and then he was wondering  _ why _ he wanted to hold Simon’s hand for no reason- and then he was shoving the wanting to hold Simon’s hand into the back of his mind. 

 

Simon sat up- and then his hand wasn’t in easy reaching distance. “I’m gonna go get the dustpan.” He stood up, and brushed off stray popcorn crumbs and kernels off his pajama bottoms- they were blue plaid and Baz thought they made his eyes look nice. “I’ll be right back” Simon promised, ducking out of the living room and heading for the closet down the hall. 

 

Baz sat up- and began picking up the popcorn kernels scattered underneath their pillows and blankets. Really, they had only thrown a handful each, so it wasn’t a huge mess to clean up- it was just bothersome. Simon returned shortly, with a broom and a dustpan as promised. Baz swept the popcorn- and the other boy held the dustpan in place. It only took them about ten minutes to finish cleaning up, get more snacks, and flop down in front of the tv again. 

 

Baz pressed play again- and Simon collapsed onto the floor beside him, wrapping his arms around a pillow and lying on his stomach. 

 

“Hey Baz,” Simon said. “You were right.” 

 

“What?” Baz replied, confused. He had no idea what his friend was talking about. 

 

“This movie  _ is  _ good.” 

 

Baz thought back to earlier, climbing off their bikes and coming inside- sitting at the kitchen table eating fresh baked scones while arguing about which movies they should watch. Simon had said that princess movies were lame, and Baz had argued that they were good- and it was stupid that boys shouldn’t be allowed to like princess movies, too. 

 

And because Simon couldn’t figure out another point to argue on- they watched _ tangled _ , and here they were- lying in front of the TV watching as Rapunzel and Flynn tried not to drown. Simon never thought that he’d admit to enjoying one of these movies, but then again- he never thought he’d have a best friend.

 

….

 

Simon and Baz did go to bed before midnight, as Natasha had requested- curling up on the living room floor. Simon wished he could sleep in a bed- but Baz hadn’t mentioned anything, so he just assumed they were sleeping on the floor because that’s how they always did it in the films. 

 

There was always a group of kids sprawled out on the floor in sleeping bags- leaning together and telling secrets. It was always teenagers talking about their crushes- and how ‘ _ oh, Alexander would never like me back _ ,’ and ‘ _ she’s so hot _ .’ Because it was a sleepover, and that was what you were supposed to do at sleepovers-Simon elbowed Baz in the dark.

 

“Who do you like?” 

 

“What?” Baz hissed back, and Simon repeated the question. 

 

“Who do you like?” the golden- haired boy asked.

 

“Why does it matter?” Baz replied. “I don’t like  _ anyone. _ ”

 

“But-” Simon said. “You have to like  _ someone _ .”

 

“Do  _ you  _ like someone?” Baz asked, and Simon could practically see the eyebrow arch, even though they were lying in the dark.

 

“Yes.” Simon said, before really thinking about it. Wasn’t he supposed to like someone? Weren’t the girls in his class pretty? They  _ were _ pretty- especially Agatha Wellbelove with her warm brown eyes and pale blonde hair. 

 

“Who is it? Baz asked- and for some reason he felt a twinge of something in his stomach, tasting acid in his mouth.

 

“Agatha.” Simon decided. Maybe he liked her, he wasn’t sure- but it did seem like the right thing to say. She was pretty, and funny- and sometimes when she was around his heart started to beat a little faster. 

 

“Why?” Was Baz’s only response- and then he realized it sounded kind of rude- but before he could apologize, Simon interrupted him. 

 

“I don’t know.” Simon said. “Why does anyone like anyone?” He paused for a moment. “She’s pretty, and funny. And nice. And her eyes seem like they sparkle”

 

“Cool.” Baz said- because his chest felt tight it and wasn’t  _ really _ cool because Simon was his best friend and if he liked Agatha- he’d never have time for Baz again. He didn’t want Simon to  _ leave  _ him. “Can we go to sleep now?” He wasn’t really tired- he just wanted his friend to shut up about Agatha’s sparkly eyes.

 

“Can’t sleep.” Simon said. “The floor isn’t soft enough.” 

 

Baz picked up a pillow and thwacked it into Simon’s stomach. “Idiot,” He said. “You should’ve just told me you didn’t want to sleep down here.” 

 

The other boy felt his cheeks redden in the darkness. “Well I didn’t know where else I was going to sleep.” 

 

“We can sleep in my room,” Baz said- confidently, easily. “My bed’s gigantic.” 

 

“Isn’t that a little weird?” Simon said- even though he wasn’t sure if it was weird or not. He kind of wanted to share with Baz- it would be warm and they’d have a giant fluffy duvet. “Sharing a bed.” 

 

“Well if I give you the creeps that badly, we could just stay down here,” Baz said. “But we’re already barely three inches apart- I don’t see what you’re on about.” 

 

Simon shrugged, and he knew Baz was right because he could feel their shoulders brush. “Okay, let’s go upstairs.” 

 

“Thank god.” Baz sighed. “I was  _ not  _ looking forward to the sore back I’d have tomorrow morning.” 

 

….

 

When they woke up, the grey light was streaming in through Baz’s windows, and their legs were tangled together. Simon didn’t really mind- he was warm and sleepy and honestly couldn’t care less that Baz’s leg was pressed against his own. He didn’t really know how they even got this way- they’d both been on opposite sides of the bed when they fell asleep, but now they were close enough that Simon could smell the scent of Baz’s fancy soap- like pine trees and something spicy. 

 

His friend stirred, stretching and hitting Simon in the face with a long arm. 

 

“Baz.” Simon whined, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow. “Stop it.” 

 

“Wha-” Baz started, sitting up and looking over to find his friend curled up in a ball under the sheets. “Oh.” He’d forgotten about Simon, but it explained why he felt so warm when he woke up- he wasn’t used to the body heat of someone else under his covers. Baz flopped back down into the bed again- still tired. The dark haired boy apologized. “Sorry for hitting you.” 

 

“ _ ‘ _ s okay.” Simon mumbled sleepily. Really, it was too light out to fall back asleep, but they were both lying there pretending that they could. “I’m tired.” 

 

“Me too.” Baz replied, letting his eyelids slip shut. “We stayed up kind of late last night.” 

 

“Did you have any dreams?” Simon asked, rolling over to look at his friend. Baz opened his eyes to see Simon- only inches away from his face. He didn’t know why, but he felt his cheeks flushing at the close proximity. Simon was looking at him expectantly with his big, blue eyes- and Baz found himself paying more attention to the moles on his face than the question. “Baz.” Simon said- snapping him out of his reverie. 

 

“I don’t remember anything,” Baz said- which was mostly true. He had vague, hazy memories of a dream with vampires and dragons and lots of fire. “I mean- I sort of remember a dream with dragons and other magic stuff.” 

 

“Huh.” Simon said. “That sounds cooler than mine.” 

 

“What was your dream?” 

 

“I dreamt that we were in this crystal cave that just descended into the ocean- and for some reason we kept going into the water.” Simon continued. “And when we went under the saltwater filled our lungs but we could still breathe- so we spent the day submerged. I think we were finding a shark when I woke up.” 

 

“Simon,” Baz said. “That sounds  _ way  _ cooler than my dream.” 

 

The other boy shrugged, rubbing his eyes with one hand, and yawning. “ _ ‘ _ s not that exciting.” And then he added. “The shark almost ate you.” 

 

“You tried to save me, right?” Baz asked. 

 

Simon rolled his eyes. “Of course- I can’t have underwater adventures without my nerdy assistant.”

 

“Shut up.” Baz replied, elbowing Simon in the ribs- gently though, he’d never  _ actually  _ hurt Simon. “I am  _ not  _ your assistant.” 

 

Simon made a noncommittal noise that probably meant ‘yes you are.’- And Baz glared at him. Simon rolled his blue eyes again. “Baz, I’m kidding.” He said. “I tried to save you because you’re my best friend.” He sighed dramatically. “I couldn’t go on without you.” Even though Simon was making a joke out of it, it was the truth. He didn’t know what he’d do without Baz. 

 

“Whatever.” Baz said, and Simon shoved his shoulder. 

 

“Love you, too, idiot.” 

 

“Who said I loved you?” Baz shot back- and Simon sighed. 

 

“You did, like,  _ three days _ ago.” 

 

“Oh.” Baz replied. “Yeah- love you.” 

 

“Love you too.” Simon said again- and kicked him under the covers. “ _ idiot.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> carly is mia at the moment so IM POSTING THIS THING. Y'ALL ARE WELCOME. come yell at me on tumblr at e-li-za.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz are best friends forever.

**_ELEVEN YEARS OLD:_ **

 

Simon sat at the Pitch’s kitchen table- feigning impatience. He could hear Baz playing the violin one room over, and instinctively he faked boredom. Simon would never tell Baz how much he liked it when the dark haired boy played violin. He would never tell Baz how much he liked the way the notes sounded- spilling out into the empty air and echoing down sunlit hallways. 

 

“Classical music is  _ boring. _ ” Simon said- wrinkling his nose. Baz rolled his eyes and let out a superior sounding huff- the pretentious git. 

 

“It’s not boring, Simon.” Baz said. “It’s  _ traditional _ .” 

 

“Traditional  _ is _ boring.” Simon said stubbornly- and Baz narrowed his eyebrows. 

 

“I’m traditional, Simon.” Baz scowled at his friend. “My family is one of the most traditional, conservative families in the area.”

 

“Yeah,” Simon replied. “But you’re not boring.” 

 

“So traditional isn’t necessarily boring.” Baz shot back- and Simon sighed exasperatedly. 

 

“Yeah but traditional  _ music  _ is boring.” Simon rested his chin on the heel of his palm. “I don’t understand how you can enjoy classical.” 

 

Baz could listen to classical when  _ anyone  _ was playing it, he liked going to recitals and concertos and sometimes he even played  _ in _ them. He had a hundred song long playlist of his favorite classical music on his i pod. Simon couldn’t listen to classical- whether it was recordings or actual live performances- he always got bored. 

 

The only classical Simon could stand was when Baz played his violin. Of course, Simon always complained and asked if they could do homework instead- which was saying something, because he hated homework. They did their homework together though- and Baz never bailed out on Simon. Which meant that the golden haired boy had to wait through Baz’s violin lessons on tuesday afternoons- doing nothing for half an hour.

 

The sound of violin- stopping every few minutes- carried down the hallway, and Simon pretended not to like it. Really, he adored it- but only because it was  _ Baz _ . Yeah, classical was beautiful- but it was mostly just  _ boring _ . When Baz played- for some reason- that changed. The high, thin melodies became lovely, or haunting, or happy- but never boring.  _ Never  _ boring. 

 

Simon didn’t think he’d ever get bored of Baz’s playing- or Baz in general. He knew the dark haired boy almost as well as he knew himself- and yet he never for a second grew sick of Baz. Of course, they teased each other all the time- but Simon never meant a word ill spoken towards Baz. He was a nerd, and a dork- and sometimes an idiot- but Simon loved him, and those insults had become more affectionate than anything else. 

 

Love was something Simon didn’t think he understood- his parents said they loved him, but they yelled and they fought and they exiled him to his room whenever he got in their way. Was that love for a child? Simon didn’t know- he thought that the closest to love he had was Baz- because the other boy felt like coming home. He felt safe and reliable, and sometimes Baz felt like falling- but Simon tried to ignore those moments. He thought they would ruin everything. 

 

Like last week- when he wanted to reach out and take Baz’s hand even though they both agreed that holding hands was  _ weird _ \- now that they were eleven. (Maybe it wasn’t weird. Maybe it was nice to feel the weight of someone’s hand in yours. To hold even a fraction of someone’s world.)

 

….

 

“How many cups of cocoa powder do we need?” Simon asked- looking over at Baz, who was holding the cookbook in his hands.

 

“We don’t even need a full cup of cocoa powder,” Baz replied, keeping his eyes trained on the recipe. “We only need one third of a cup.” 

 

Simon got out another measuring cup- and carefully scooped out the right amount of cocoa powder to go in the bowl of flour. When he poured the powder in- a puff of bitter, chocolate dust floated into the air. Simon coughed- and Baz glared. 

 

“We’re going to have to wipe that off the counter.” 

 

“Whatever,” Simon said- rolling his eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal.” The other boy rolled his eyes right back at Simon, before continuing on with the recipe. 

 

“Now you need to add the baking powder and the salt.” Baz instructed. “You need a fourth of a teaspoon of each, and you have to sift them together.” 

 

“What am I supposed to sift together?” Simon asked- turning away from the large, blue bowl their unfinished batter sat in. 

 

“Uh,” Baz said- his eyebrows drawn together as he tried to read the instructions again. “All of it?” 

 

“What?” Simon exclaimed. “I was supposed to sift all the ingredients together! Baz- you should’ve told me! Now the recipe ‘s going to get messed up.” 

 

The other boy shrugged his shoulders helplessly, and Simon let out an exasperated noise. “Of course, the one time we try and bake without your mum, we mess up within the first five minutes.” 

 

“Hey!” Baz said. “It’s not my fault-” and then he paused because, really, it was his fault. Simon glowered at his friend- and the other boy backpedalled. “We can still fix it, we’ll just have to be more careful now.” 

 

“Uhg,” Simon said- and got out a fork to try and stir the floury mixture. “If these turn out gross, you’re keeping the leftovers.” 

 

They spent the next fifteen minutes trying to keep the batter from turning lumpy as they added in the wet ingredients- all while bickering like siblings, or an old married couple. 

 

“I told you we should’ve mixed them all together earlier.” Baz said- but Simon just kept beating the eggs. They had already poured in the vanilla extract and the melted butter- and those had left lumps of flour too, but the boys had been able to stir them out. The eggs weren’t going as well.

 

“You said  _ nothing  _ about that.” Simon replied, still stirring fiercely, a concentrated look on his face.

 

“I-” Baz started, and then he remembered that Simon was right, he hadn’t said anything about it. “Sorry.” 

 

“Baz,” Simon said- noticing the downcast expression on his friend’s face. “It’s fine, even if the brownies are shitty- at least we get to say we tried.”

 

Baz sent Simon a cool look for his use of profanity- but didn’t say anything out loud. He wasn’t Simon’s mum. “Oh sod off, Baz.” The golden haired boy said- rolling his eyes. “Swearing isn’t that big of a deal.” 

 

“I know.” Baz said, in his own defense.

 

“Then why don’t you do it?” Simon asked. “I mean, I don’t swear a lot, but everyone seems to at least a little.” 

 

“Because I don’t like sounding like an uneducated ass.” Baz retorted, and Simon grinned. Baz’s lips twitched- but he tried his best to keep a straight face. Simon opened his mouth- a shit eating grin on his face, but before he could say anything else, Baz interrupted. “Shut up, Snow.” 

 

The golden haired boy deflated a bit- pouting and stirring the batter a little slower. “I hate it when you call me that.” 

 

“What,” Baz said. “It’s your name.” 

 

“And I didn’t even say anything.” Simon sulked. 

 

“But you were  _ thinking _ something,” Baz said. “You had that look on your face.”

 

“What face?” Simon asked, scrunching his nose- decidedly not  _ that  _ face. 

 

“You always make this face when you’re plotting something,” Baz said. “Or when you think you’re about to say something clever when, really, you’re just being a dork.” 

 

Now Simon was really pouting. “Do I really do that?” 

 

“Yes-” Baz said. “And when you’re moping you make this pouty face that you have right now.” He wanted to say:  _ it’s kind of cute _ . Instead he said: “You really need to work on that.”

 

Simon rolled his eyes. “Whatever,  _ Basil _ .” He knew his friend was just teasing him, so it was easy to bounce back. “You’re no charmer yourself.” 

 

Baz mock-gasped dramatically. “I’m offended, Simon.” 

 

“You should be.” Simon said- and now Baz was the one pouting. “Go preheat the oven for me, you nerd.” 

 

Forty five minutes later, the boys discovered the brownies turned out to be very  _ not  _ shitty. Simon and Baz sat at the kitchen table and ate them fresh out of the pan- burning their fingers and their tongues the same way they did when they first met, all those years ago. 

….

 

Simon decided it wasn’t safe to stay in his house anymore the first time he heard a plate shatter against the kitchen wall. It wasn’t the first time it had gotten this bad, at least not recently. It seemed that whenever Simon came home, there was a fight of some kind. 

 

Some days it was hushed and Simon couldn’t hear a thing through the walls- besides the sound of his mum’s footsteps as she walked in circles. She only did that when she was anxious. Tonight wasn’t a hushed night. It was a loud one, with screaming and crying and he got sent to his room the moment he stepped through the door. 

 

He’d been at Baz’s house all afternoon- playing mario kart and doing homework- but Simon immediately wanted to turn around and climb on his bike when he got home. He’d been able to hear his parents arguing before he even got outside, both of them with raised voices. Of course, he didn’t think they’d ever hit him- but his Dad made him nervous anyways, so he went straight to his room. The fight fluctuated from louder and quieter as the time passed- but it never ceased completely. 

 

Now, hours later- the shouting had grown even louder, and Simon just wanted to curl into a ball because he could  _ hear _ them. He could hear every single word they were throwing at each other even if he didn’t  _ want  _ to hear them. It felt like his parents were setting him on fire with their words.

 

“Having a child was never going to fix this Davy!” It was muffled- but clear enough that Simon could hear every word Lucy said. “I know I agreed to it, but you can’t blame our marriage falling apart on Simon. You can’t blame our mistake.” 

 

_‘Our mistake’_. _What was the mistake?_ Simon wondered. _No,_ who _was the mistake_ \- He thought about it for a moment, and then and the answer hit Simon in burning clarity. _He_ was the mistake. 

 

“I fucking can,” He heard his father respond. “I wish that boy was never born- I wish I never came up with the stupid idea to have a child- a stupid idea that would ruin  _ everything _ .”

 

_ I ruined everything. _

 

“David.” Lucy said. “Stop it- he can probably hear us right now.” 

 

_ Dad wishes I was never born. _

 

“Good.” David seethed. “He should know that we never wanted him- that we never wanted this mess!”

 

_ They never wanted me. _

 

Simon’s head was spinning and his pulse was racing and maybe if he could just  _ breathe _ it would all make sense. He wasn’t wanted. His father didn’t love him and Simon had ruined everything. His mother- Lucy, who crafted home-made soaps and sugar scrubs in her freetime, who smelled like lavender and honey- who _ loved _ him, who called him her rosebud boy- she said  _ he  _ was a  _ mistake _ . 

 

The sounds of the fight seemed to blur in Simon’s head because all he could think was how he was a mistake.  _ Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. _ He wanted to tear his hair out- he wanted to scream to silence the voices buzzing in his head. 

 

Then something broke, a loud shattering noise- and he was brought back into reality, shaking and sweating-his back pressed against his bedroom door. Simon let out another shuddering breath, or maybe it was a sob-  and it sounded wet and sad- like everything he hated. 

 

Something else shattered against the kitchen wall- and it sounded more like china than glass to Simon. He decided that really, it didn’t matter. Someone would have to clean up the broken bits of glass- but it wouldn’t be him.

 

Simon’s house was only one storey tall, so it wasn’t that hard to open his bedroom window and drop into the bushes below. Over the noise of their own fighting in the kitchen, Lucy and David didn’t notice as their son climbed on his bike and rode towards the only place that had really felt like home. 

 

….

 

“Simon,” Natasha said, surprised. It was nine o’clock- and she couldn’t fathom why he’d shown up at the Pitch estate. “What are you doing here?” 

 

“My mum said I could sleepover this weekend.” He was lying- it was a horrible, terrible lie, and Natasha could probably see through it, Simon knew- but Natasha could see that even if he was lying, something was  _ wrong  _ too. He looked like he’d been crying, and his voice was a little rougher. She cared about Simon almost as much as she cared about her own son, so she opened the door and ushered him in. 

 

“Are you alright?” Natasha asked, looking down at Simon. 

 

“I’m fine.” Simon replied. “Sorry for showing up so late.” 

 

“It’s fine, Simon.” Natasha said, smiling at him warmly. “We always love to have you.” Simon couldn’t help it- he smiled back through the pain and the knowing that his own parents didn’t want him. At least he had a sort of family here. “Why don’t you go surprise Basil,” Natasha encouraged, pointing towards the grand, sweeping staircase. “I think he’s in his room right now.” 

 

_ Baz.  _ Simon thought.

 

He had come here for Baz. “Okay.” Simon said- but he felt like saying something else- he couldn’t figure out what though. He wanted so say something  _ more _ \- because that’s what Baz was to him. More than the boy he shared his lunch with, More than the days they spent lying in the knee-high grass last summer. Baz was more than a normal friend- he was Simon’s  _ best _ friend. He was Simon’s  _ everything _ .

 

Simon gave Natasha a weak smile, and a wave- before heading up the long, tall staircase. Baz’s room was at the end of the hallway- and Simon thought he could probably manage to sneak up on his friend if he was careful. He was going to try and be careful- slipping off his shoes when he reached the top of the staircase- so he wouldn’t make as much sound. 

 

He made it to the end of the hallway, preparing to surprise his friend- he was ready, it would be like when they were nine and on halloween Baz tried to scare him with his vampire costume. It would be payback. It  _ would’ve been  _ payback- but Simon tripped on the carpet- and fell with a loud thump on the door outside of Baz’s room. 

 

“God, Mordelia,” Baz said, opening the door with an exasperated sigh. “I told you not-”

 

“Oww.” Simon groaned- and Baz jumped in surprise. 

 

“Simon!” He said. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Sleepover.” Simon got out. “Help me up.”  Baz immediately leaned over and offered a hand to his friend, who was currently sprawled on the floor. At least the carpet was soft- Simon probably hadn’t hit his head. 

 

Once the other boy was standing, Baz repeated his question. “What are you doing here?”

 

Simon rolled his eyes- which were still a little red, and tried to look nonchalant. “My mum said I could sleepover this weekend.” 

 

“I thought you said that you couldn’t stay earlier?” Baz was watching his friend closely, something was off- something that Simon wasn’t telling him about. 

 

The other boy shrugged noncommittally. “Things changed-” Simon looked around, like he was being watched. “I’ll tell you later.” 

 

“Okay,” Baz said slowly- a mixture of worry and confusion bubbling up inside him. “What do you want to do?” 

 

“Can we read?” Simon asked- which meant Baz would read aloud, and Simon would make hot chocolate and listen. 

 

“Sure,” Baz replied easily. It was actually one of his favorite things to do with Simon- and he was glad to spend time with the other boy. “Harry Potter again?”

 

Simon grinned- the first sign of happiness, or life, really- that night. Baz knew what he was going to say when Simon waggled finger guns and raised his eyebrows.“No problem.”

 

“You’re such a dork.” Baz said in response, shaking his head.

 

“Yeah,” Simon said. “But you love me.”

 

“God knows why.” Baz mumbled under his breath, and Simon gave him a playful shove. 

 

“Hey! I’m your best friend, Baz.” Simon said. “That’s why.”

 

“I know.” Baz said, rolling his eyes. “Are you gonna make the hot chocolate?” 

 

Simon hummed out a noise that meant yes, and then grabbed Baz’s wrist and pulled him towards the kitchen. “But I’m not making it by myself, that would be lame.” 

 

“I have to get the book,” Baz said- pulling his wrist out of Simon’s grasp- and then regretting it for a moment- before pushing the regret to the back of his mind in an envelope labeled  _ ‘thoughts I don’t understand about Simon Snow _ .’ He swallowed.“I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

 

“Alright,” Simon said, smiling a little. “See you in a few.” 

 

Later, they went up to Baz’s room, and sat together propped up against the dark, wooden headboard with fluffy pillows against their backs. Both boys held steaming mugs of hot chocolate- and Baz was trying to read out loud and drink his at the same time. 

 

It wasn’t working very well- Baz paused to take sips every few seconds, and turning the pages was hard when he had one hand occupied with a drink. He thought it would probably be easier to just put the mug down and finish it later- but then it wouldn’t be hot, and Simon didn’t even seem to mind the few times Baz fumbled. Really, he looked too tired to care about anything. Not for the first time that night, Baz wondered what happened, and why his friend seemed so  _ off _ . 

 

“Simon,” Baz asked- pausing for a moment and setting the book face down on the bed- pages splayed. “Are you okay?”

 

Over the past hour, the golden haired boy had gradually slumped lower down the headboard, and by now he was practically in a position to sleep- his face level with Baz’s waist. Simon shrugged in response to Baz’s question, and the dark haired boy rolled his eyes, bumping his knee against Simon’s. “Come on,” Baz said. “Spill. I know something’s wrong.” 

 

“Don’t want to talk about it.” Simon said, quietly. He looked so exhausted, like the two hours he spent between leaving Baz’s house and returning had drained him of all life. Like he’d met a dementor on his way to their manor. 

 

“Is it your parents?” Baz pressed and Simon closed his eyes- rolling over and pressing his face into his friend’s side, nodding his head in a silent  _ yes _ . He didn’t want anyone to see him like this- he didn’t want anyone to know that his own parents didn’t really want him- Simon didn’t even want  _ Baz _ to know. “I’m sorry.” Baz said, and Simon just shrugged- his voice slightly muffled. 

 

“ _ ‘ _ S nothing you can do about it.” 

 

Baz wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say in response to that, because yes- there was nothing Baz  _ could  _ do- but there was everything he wanted to do. He wanted to find some way to fix this, because it was Simon with his golden hair and blue eyes and Simon was the  _ sun _ \- but today a shadow had passed over him. Baz hated seeing Simon like this- he  _ hated  _ it. 

 

“Are they fighting?” Baz asked, and Simon nodded again. “Do your parents know you’re here?” Simon stiffened- and shook his head slowly. Baz felt a headache coming on he was worrying so much. “We should tell them, so they don’t get scared about where you are.” 

 

“They won’t care.” Simon mumbled. He still hadn’t moved from his position, his face half buried in Baz’s waist, an arm wrapped around his stomach- like he was trying to hold himself together.

 

“Simon,” Baz said. “They’re your parents- of course they’re going to be worried.” 

 

“They’re really not,” Simon said. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

Baz wanted to argue- but he didn’t want to upset Simon any more, and he could hear that the other boy’s voice had grown more choked as their conversation progressed. He hated to see Simon cry, because there was never anything he could do about it. When Simon got like this, shadowy and sad- Baz felt helpless. 

 

“Well,” Baz said, softly. “I worry.” 

 

“It’s okay, Baz.” Simon replied, finally shifting so he was facing the ceiling again, although his head was still resting against the other boy’s side. “I’ll be fine.”

 

Baz wanted to believe him- he really did. So he tried. “Okay,” He said. “I love you.”

 

“Yeah,” Simon said. “Whatever- love you too.” and then he shoved Baz’s side. “Dork.” 

 

The two boys spent the rest of the evening like that, curled together- reading aloud as they sipped their hot chocolate. (Baz put his down eventually. It got cold.) When they were together, it was easier. As long as they had each other- there was a soft feeling of comfort, low and quiet- like the hum of electric heat. So they sat there until their eyelids drooped and slipped shut- pretending that everything would be fine.

(everything  _ would  _ be fine.)

 

(everything had to be fine, right?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> carly is mia at the moment so IM POSTING THIS THING. Y'ALL ARE WELCOME. come yell at me on tumblr at e-li-za.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz are best friends forever.

**_TWELVE YEARS OLD:_ **

 

Simon absolutely  _ hated  _ latin, and Baz hated maths. It worked out pretty well that way- because even though Simon detested maths- he wasn’t bad at them. Baz was though- but he was also fantastic at latin- so they had a deal. Simon did the maths homework, and Baz did the latin- and they’d meet up at lunch to trade answers. 

 

Today Simon was halfway through a bowl of cup-noodle ramen when Baz appeared- he’d stopped accepting food from the Pitches. It always made him feel like he was taking advantage of their kindness. He already stayed at their house every afternoon- and slept over most weekends, he wasn’t going to ask for anything else from them. Simon felt bad enough as it was- He’d overheard Malcom and Natasha whispering in the kitchen the other day; when Baz convinced him to go get popcorn. 

 

“Simon isn’t  _ ours _ , Tasha.” 

 

“He’s Basil’s best friend.” There was a quiet pause- and Simon froze from his place on the stairs. He hoped the floorboards didn’t creak. “And we don’t know what his family situation is like.” 

 

Malcom sighed- loudly, and Simon could imagine the pained expression on his face. “You know I care about him- but isn’t this getting excessive? He practically lives here.” 

 

“I know, Malcom-” Natasha paused. “But if his parents aren’t taking care of him someone has to.” 

 

“So you’re going to keep putting extra food in Basil’s lunchbox? You’re going to keep treating him like he’s our own flesh and blood?” 

 

“Why not? Why can’t there be flesh without blood? Why can’t he have a safe place here?” 

 

Malcom sighed again- he did that a lot, the sighing. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate. The other families are going to think we’re some sort of charity house.” 

 

“Who cares what they think? He’s a  _ child- _ he deserves better treatment.” Natasha paused. “I just don’t think it’s right.” 

 

That’s when Simon turned to flee the scene, before anyone could find him- or find out what he’d heard. That was the last thing he wanted- he knew he was enough of a burden to his real family- and he didn’t want to cause trouble for this one. He knew the altruistic thing to do would be leaving them alone- pushing himself out of Baz’s life and just letting them live. But Simon was selfish, and he just  _ couldn’t. _

 

He couldn’t give up Baz- so things stayed almost the same.  _ Almost. _

 

When Baz brought in extra scones, Simon thanked him politely and said he wasn’t hungry- before producing a paper bag with his hodgepodge of a lunch inside. It took months, really, for Natasha to stop sending in extras. Now he just picked random items out of his fridge- it was more for appearances sake than actually eating. Simon wasn’t that hungry- and he didn’t  _ really  _ want the yogurt he put in his lunch, but he didn’t have anything else. He was always eating whatever he could find around the house, and his parents were too busy fighting to really notice him. 

 

He’d taken to buying whatever cheap, easy to make food he could find at the tesco. Simon had managed to convince Lucy to give him twenty pounds to buy lunch with, and because he wanted it to last awhile- he picked out cheap ramen. That was what he was eating today as Baz raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at the inky scribble of answers to their math homework. 

 

“How am I supposed to copy that?” He asked bluntly- and the golden haired boy scowled at him. 

 

“My handwriting’s not that bad you git.” Simon pulled his math homework in front of him. “See? readable.” 

 

“Not readable.” Baz said. “I have no idea what that says.” He pointed at one of the pre-algebra problems. “Is that an eight? or a three?” 

 

“It’s a three!” Simon said- jerking the homework away- half offended. Baz’s handwriting was clearly defined, their latin homework written in a smooth, looping script. He scowled at it- because it  _ was  _ readable. 

 

Baz rolled his eyes at his friend. “Will you just tell me what they say?” 

 

“Fine.” Simon grumbled- before reading out the answers for his math problems. He wasn’t sure if they were all correct or not, but at least if they got a problem wrong, both of them would get the same grade for it. It didn’t take them too long to trade answers- so they found themselves sitting in the computer lab doing absolutely nothing. 

 

“I’m bored.” Simon proclaimed, putting his feet up on an extra chair. Baz put his feet up there too, and kicked Simon’s trainers gently

 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

 

“What do you want to do?” Simon asked. Generally it took the better half of their lunch to trade answers, because someone would always find errors in the work and then they’d have to go back and fix it all- but today almost all of their latin translations and math problems turned out alright. 

 

“Youtube?” Baz suggested, and Simon nodded, so Baz spun around in the office chair to face the computer. (the only office chair- he and Simon had decided whoever gets to the computer lab first gets to sit in it.) 

 

“Can we watch that video with the baby monkey again?” 

 

Baz rolled his eyes- but searched up the video anyways. “I can’t believe we’re watching this  _ again. _ ”

 

“Yeah,” Simon said. “But you were the one who showed it to me- you love this video.” 

 

“Whatever,” Baz grumbled- he liked to pretend he was too cool for viral videos. “Only a little.” He wouldn’t admit it- but he really liked the video just because it made Simon laugh, and Simon’s laugh was worth sitting through a repetitive jingle that half the school was singing. 

 

Simon’s laugh was worth anything. 

 

…..

 

It was six in the morning- and Simon was about to dive into a freezing pool. In moments like these- where he was cold and groggy- Simon wondered  _ why  _ exactly he’d decided to join swim team. And then he remembered that it gave him an excuse to be out of the house- and something to  _ do, _ something to focus on that wasn’t Baz or his schoolwork or his parent’s constant fighting. He could just leave the house with an excuse as simple as:

 

“I’m going to swim practice,” or: “I think the pool’s open- and I need to work on my butterfly stroke.” 

 

That was all it took for his parents to leave him alone- these days they were pulling him into the fights, trying to make him pick sides. His dad had never been so nice to him before, and now he was suddenly offering to help with his homework or take him to that film he’d really wanted to see- but Simon knew it was just because his dad wanted to use him as leverage against his mother. 

 

They wanted him to pick sides- and whenever he was asked a direct question, no matter how small it was. “Simon, do you want italian-” his mum would say, and then his dad would interrupt. “Or chinese?” - he tried to come up with an excuse to leave. Simon couldn’t count the number of fake english projects he’d made up just so he could go to Baz’s house. 

 

Now, at least with swim team- he had another option. He didn’t have to intrude on the Pitches as much anymore- and Simon thought Malcom was probably trying not to jump for joy everytime Simon said he had to leave early for swim practice. He had it every day- but it switched off from mornings and afternoons. Monday, wednesday and friday- he was expected to be at the pool by six AM. On tuesdays and thursdays, he had to make it there by five- and then his parents let him pick up dinner on the way home. 

 

It was a large amount of freedom for someone who was only twelve, but growing up with distant parents made the feeling of responsibility familiar. Simon was no stranger to taking care of himself. 

 

The scent of chlorine was permanently embedded into his hair and skin after only a month of swimming- not even his mother’s fancy scrubs could get rid of the scent, although Simon didn’t mind testing them out. Lucy liked to make them for fun, as easy christmas or birthday gifts- and she always used Simon as her guinea pig. (The most recent batch was coconut and rose scented, and when Baz asked him why he smelled so nice, Simon blushed.) 

 

….

 

For once, when Simon got back home after swim practice- the house was quiet. If the lights hadn’t been on- he would’ve assumed no one was home; but his father was a stickler about their energy bills, so Simon knew he’d never leave a light on unless they were home. The silence was strange- and Simon shivered, maybe because of the unnerving lack of fighting- or maybe because his hair was still wet from the pool. 

 

“Mum?” He called. “Dad?” 

 

There was no immediate response, so Simon came further into the house, down the hall towards the kitchen. “Mum?” He repeated- and jumped when he heard another voice. 

 

“In here, darling.” Lucy’s voice came from the kitchen- so Simon came in to see her sitting at the table by herself, drinking a mug of tea. She smiled when she saw him- but it didn’t seem quite right. Her smile was too tired, and too quiet. Her smile was what was left when you took happiness away- not gave it. Her smile wasn’t what a smile was supposed to look like.

 

Simon knew something was wrong. His mum flashed another weak smile at him.“How was your day?” 

 

If the sad smile hadn’t been an indication of something changing at home- her question was. Lucy hadn’t asked Simon how his day was in months- as soon as he got home it was always. “Go to your room- your dad and I need to talk about grown up stuff.” or: “Have you done your homework?” never. “How are you? How’s Baz? What’s going on in swim team?” 

 

Simon swallowed- watching his mother’s face for any sign of what had happened, or what was going on. “My day was alright,” He said carefully. “What about yours?” 

 

Lucy rubbed her face with one hand. “Long, and tiring.”

 

She certainly looked tired- she’d probably been fighting with his dad all day, but Simon couldn’t see his father- or hear him. Where  _ was  _ David anyways? Simon turned around the room, looking for any sign of his father. “Where’s Dad?”

 

Simon didn’t really want to see his father, but it was unusual for him to be missing like this. David was a journalist, and did most of his writing online- so he worked from home. Lucy exhaled a deep breath when Simon asked his question- and closed her eyes for a moment. “Your dad isn’t here” 

 

“Well I can see that,” He replied. “But where did he go?” 

 

“Sit down, Simon.” Lucy had her head in her hands- and Simon could easily see the purple half-moons stamped under her eyes. 

 

“Mum.” Simon said quietly. “Where’s dad.” 

 

“Sit down.” Lucy repeated. 

 

….

 

Baz watched his friend carefully- Simon had come to school that day with chlorine scented skin and a defeated look on his face. Something was wrong- really, really wrong. Baz couldn’t quite explain it because Simon wasn’t acting that different- he was just  _ off.  _

 

The golden haired boy seemed slower and less enthusiastic- and he didn’t raise his hand in maths once, which was saying something because that was the only class Simon was really good at. He was alright at the other classes, but with history and english he fumbled over his words. He told Baz once that maths and science just made sense- even if they were really hard sometimes. 

 

Those were the classes that made the least sense to Baz- he couldn’t keep all the numbers and equations straight and he found himself looking at Simon more than the chalkboard. He still hadn’t figured  _ that  _ out either. The looking at Simon and thinking about being closer. Baz didn’t actually want to  _ do _ anything, he just wanted to be near the golden haired boy, even though they sat together at lunch every day. 

 

Being with Simon made Baz feel like he was hanging in suspension sometimes, and he never felt close enough. When he thought about the being closer- he couldn’t think of much. It was just shoulders pressed against each other, or knees bumping. Hands laced together like they used to when they were kids. 

 

And sometimes ‘closer’ was wanting to brush the curls that fell in Simon’s eyes out of his face. And sometimes it was wanting to make a fool of himself just so the other boy would smile. And sometimes closer was feeding Simon strawberries off a plate his mother bought at an antique sale. And sometimes it was wanting to kiss Simon on the cheek. 

 

Mostly it was shoving the idea of ‘closer’ into the back of his mind because it was  _ Simon _ \- and Simon was a boy and Baz was a boy so closer wasn’t right- because boys don’t get closer. Boys grow up and they learn how to be strong, they learn how to sweep girls off their feet. Baz didn’t want to sweep girls off their feet- and he certainly didn’t want to grow up. 

 

Grown-ups were all sad. His mum, his dad, his aunt- all of his close family friends seemed that way. Really, every adult he’d met had the same look in their eyes. The same perpetual worry or sadness or _ something _ that just haunted them. Of course, no one looked like that all the time- but he’d seen it in everyone. Moments where they looked  _ old _ \- but not even in age. Tired. Defeated.  _ Sad. _

 

Simon looked like that right now- too old for his age, like someone had come and crushed all the youth out of him. Normally, he was as bright as the sun- but today it was like an eclipse. 

 

Baz didn’t want to ask him until they got back to his house later- it was one of Simon’s morning practice days, so he could stay all afternoon. The dark haired boy wouldn’t admit it to anyone (except his mum)- but he missed Simon while he was at swim practice. It seemed to make him happy though- so Baz wasn’t going to argue. Apparently being on swim team was like having a second family of chlorinated twelve year olds. 

 

He was kind of jealous to hear that, really- because what if Simon met someone else there? Someone cooler-  _ better _ \- than Baz. He didn’t want to think of that, because if Simon left him, he wouldn’t really have any other friends. Baz hadn’t bothered to make any new friends in school- he didn’t need to. Baz already had the best friend he could wish for. 

 

….

 

Baz watched as Simon flopped back onto his bed- dropping his backpack with a loud thud. It was kind of funny really, to see Simon making himself so at home in the other boy’s room- but it didn’t bother Baz. Simon had slept in his bed at sleepovers enough that it didn’t matter. 

 

“Rough day?” Baz asked- which was a sort of stupid question because he knew something was wrong. Simon had been acting strange all day- and hadn’t given a hint of an explanation as to what had gone wrong. It was worrying Baz- and he knew he had that stupid crease in his brow that Simon always hated, but he didn’t try to hide it. 

 

Instead, he climbed up onto the bed and crossed his legs, leaning back against the headboard. Simon was sprawled at the foot of the bed, so if Baz wanted- he could just poke the other boy with his foot to illicit a reaction. Simon stayed silent despite Baz’s question- so that was just what he did. 

 

“Simon.” he said- and poked his friend.“What’s wrong?- and don’t tell me that it’s nothing, you didn’t even bat an eye at the scones I brought for lunch which means  _ something  _ is wrong.” 

 

“Uhg.” Simon said. “Don’t want to talk about it.” 

 

“Is it your parents again?” Baz asked- and Simon nodded in response. “They’re still fighting?” Simon shook his head. “Are they making you quit swim team or something?” 

 

“No.” Simon said. “It’s something else.” His lips pressed into a thin line, and he shook his head again. “It’s not a big deal.” 

 

“Simon…” Baz said, searching his friends face for something, anything but the melancholy expression that seemed to be permanent. 

 

“Fine.” He sighed- looking away from Baz. “My parents.” Simon paused and let out another sigh, wrapping his arms around himself. “My parents are getting a divorce, okay?” 

 

“ _ What. _ ” Baz choked out. He couldn’t see his friends face- but he could see Simon’s ribcage rising and falling faster than usual. “Simon...you could’ve told me” He didn’t know what to say- or how to feel other than even more worried for his friend. “Are you okay?” 

 

“I’m  _ fine. _ ” Simon said- which meant he obviously wasn’t fine. Baz could hear it in his ragged breathing and sharp tone. .

 

“No you’re not.” Baz said. “You’ve been acting sort of sad all day- and it’s okay to be sad.” Baz paused, and added in a quieter voice. “I would be.” 

 

“It’s fine.” Simon said, and at this point Baz couldn’t stand the other boy being so far away. He shifted closer to his friend- and tapped him on the shoulder, because Simon still had his back to the dark haired boy. Simon finally turned, lying flat on his back instead of on his side. Wordlessly, he reached up and shoved Baz in the chest so they were both down- staring up at the blank ceiling (there used to be glow in the dark stars- but they took them down when Baz turned ten.) 

 

A few long moments of silence passed, and Baz could hear his friends breathing from how close they were. He was  _ closer _ \- their legs pressed together, and Baz hated himself because that was all he could think of- even when his friend was like this. All he could think of was the warmth of another body next to his- and the scent of chlorine and roses- when Simon was obviously hurting. “I just never thought it would actually happen.” He finally said, whisper quiet. 

 

“Yeah.” Was all Baz could manage, but it was enough for Simon to keep talking in his hushed tone. 

 

“Like, I knew something was wrong,” He said, swallowing audibly. “But I never thought it would happen. I thought they were like something out of a fairytale.” 

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“They were highschool sweethearts.” Simon said- his voice thick, and Baz knew his friend was going to cry. “Aren’t they supposed to love each other forever? Isn’t that what marriage is?” Baz was still looking at the ceiling- but he heard a wet sob escape from Simon’s lips. “They’re supposed to  _ love  _ each other.” Baz’s chest tightened- he felt a dull ache in the pit of his stomach because Simon sounded so  _ broken _ \- and there was nothing he could do about it. 

 

“Can I give you a hug?” Baz asked- and Simon let out a sound that was half laugh- half sob. It wasn’t really an answer, but Simon was pulling his arms around Baz before the dark haired boy could even say anything. 

 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Simon was crying- and it was quiet but with Baz’s arms around Simon- he could feel every breath and whimper that shuddered through the other boy’s body.

 

“I’m sorry.” Baz said, because he didn’t know what to do and Simon was falling apart in his arms. 

 

“What-” he gasped in a breath between his tears. “what if they don’t let me see my mum.” 

 

“I’m sorry.” Baz whispered again, and it made Simon cry harder, the sobs wracking his body. 

 

“She works so much, Baz.” Simon choked out. “They could make me live with my dad just because she’s gone all the time. I don’t  _ want to _ -” He let out another wet sob. “ _ Live  _ with him.” 

 

Simon was hyperventilating at that point- unable to speak, unable to do anything but gasp for air through his sobs. When Baz  held him even tighter, crushing Simon against his chest- and the other boy dug his hands into Baz’s shoulder- clutching at his shirt. Baz thought Simon would probably stretch it out he was holding on so tight, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to make it stop. 

 

“I’m here, Simon.” He whispered. “I’m here.” 

 

He said it like that would stop what had already happened, like it would fix everything that had already broken- but really there was nothing Baz could do. So he just whispered soothing words into his friends golden hair until his lips went numb. Simon was clinging to him like a life preserver, but eventually his breathing slowed from hysteria- turning slow and deep. Simon was falling asleep.

 

Baz knew the other boy must be exhausted from holding it in all day- and then completely falling apart now. It was no wonder Simon had crashed, but he felt awkward just lying there, with the other boy half on top of him. Baz was scared that if he moved Simon would wake up- and that was the last thing he wanted. Simon needed to rest after something like this, for as long as possible. 

 

This would change things, Baz could already tell that. It would probably change Simon’s entire life but he didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about the fact that if his parents split- one of them was going to move, and one of them might take Simon with them. He didn’t want to think about how suddenly everything was so  _ hard _ \- and moving so fast. Baz just wanted to feel safe- to banish the fears in his head and just hold Simon. 

  
Baz could do that, he thought. He could hold Simon in his arms until the other boy woke up, or until the five am light burned into their eyes the next morning. So he ignored their problems, and shut his eyes to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw this was posted by e_li_za bc me n carly are HELLA BROS!!!!! also hope u liked it lol


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz are best friends forever.

**_THIRTEEN YEARS OLD:_ **

 

Simon was at his mum’s flat for the weekend- she had moved up to London after the divorce. It was a nice change- his parents had dual custody, which meant he was supposed to spend time with both of them. He lived with his father most weeks, though- because David made an argument in court that Lucy was away too much to really take care of Simon. 

 

David was sort of right about that- Lucy  _ did _ work too much to be there for Simon all the time, but he wasn’t being much of a good parent either. Neither of them were- his father was always holed up in his office, and Lucy was always away. At least now that she lived in London, Simon got to go to the city more often- and Lucy didn’t have to travel as much, because the majority of her work was there. 

 

Technically he could move in with her- and a part of Simon wanted to because living with his father was hellish most of the time. David was either barely acknowledging his son’s existence, or making snide comments that stabbed at Simon like a blade. To move in with his mother would be the obvious answer- if it wasn’t for Baz. 

 

Simon couldn’t possibly imagine living two hours away from his best friend. He didn’t even like to think about what would happen if he moved to the other side of town- much less into the city. He couldn’t leave Baz behind- he couldn’t live any more than twenty minutes away from his best friend. Anything else would feel wrong- and Simon wouldn’t be able to bike to Baz’s house if he lived anywhere else. 

 

It was bad enough that he had to go into the city every other weekend- he and Baz had to skype on the shiny new laptop Simon had gotten for his birthday. He didn’t like being away from his friend- even for just three days. They had always been together- like one entity. Never Simon  _ and _ Baz- always SimonandBaz- a package deal. Sometimes he wondered if it was unhealthy to be as dependant on Baz as he was- but then he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. 

 

Simon didn’t like to think about what would happen if Baz decided he didn’t like Simon. Or if Baz moved away. Or if Baz got hurt. Just thinking about it was enough to make his stomach churn with anxiety. Simon didn’t know if he could handle losing Baz, not now- not  _ ever. _ He hadn’t lost his parents, really, but he lost the sense of family he had- even if it was a fucked up, broken type of family. 

 

Before the divorce actually happened- it felt like his parents had broken something. Like their marriage was a metaphorical plate, and they were trying to push the pieces back together but it didn’t  _ work.  _ It just got worse- more broken, more incapable of staying together as one thing. His parents went from DavyandLucy to Davy  _ and _ Lucy- separate.  

 

Simon couldn’t even really tell when that had started. He had memories from when he was really little where they did things as a family- like day trips into the city, or making ice cream together (his mum loved making ice cream.) But Simon also had memories of his parents fighting- and he couldn’t remember when it started but he and Lucy would look at each other when David stormed out of the room and Simon would say “grumpy dad” and Lucy would sigh, and repeat it back to him. “Yeah, grumpy dad.” 

 

He knew that something was wrong from the beginning- he knew his parents didn’t work right but he never really thought they’d get a divorce. Simon didn’t really know what he thought they would do- because expecting the fighting to go on forever and just be  _ normal  _ wasn’t realistic. Maybe a part of him thought they’d go to some fancy counselor and work out their issues- but they never did. His parents fought and fought- they pushed and pushed until whatever they had between them broke irreparably. 

 

And now he had to take the train up to London every other weekend- by himself because his father said “I don’t want to see your mother Simon- but tell her to take good care of you.” as if he  _ had  _ been taking good care of Simon. David certainly  _ hadn't _ been taking good care of Simon- and it showed. The boy’s clothes were always fraying, and he looked just a little too skinny. 

 

Lucy always shook her head and muttered something about David under her breath when she saw Simon at the train station- and then she took him out for a nice dinner. He always got to London at around seven- and he was always exhausted after a day of school and then travelling up to the city. 

 

Today was no different. He said goodbye to Baz after school with a hug and a pang in his chest because he really,  _ really,  _ wished he didn’t have to leave his friend. He rode on the train and looked out the window- almost falling asleep as he listened to an indie band Baz had told him about. He met up with his mother- and she frowned at his ripped jeans and adjusted his tee shirt before taking him out to dinner (this time, thai food.) They went back to her flat- and Simon collapsed on the futon in his room. 

 

It wasn’t really  _ his _ room, it was the guest room- so he wasn’t allowed to tack up pictures and drawings and swimming medals on the wall. but Lucy had let him pick out the sheets and blankets for the room, and she even let him pick out some posters from the art museum to put on the wall (after they went to see the monet exhibit last month.)  

 

Simon had his face buried in one of the soft pillows- and he sighed contentedly. But then he groaned and rolled over. He had to skype Baz- which wasn’t a bad thing, he was just so, so  _ tired _ \- and he didn’t want to move to get his laptop and charger out of his duffle bag. Instead, he reached for his phone in his pocket- it had been a birthday gift, just like the laptop- except it was from his father. 

 

His parents had gotten into a habit of trying to out gift each other- which Simon supposed was a perk of them getting divorced. For his birthday, Simon’s father got him an iphone- and his mother got him a laptop. It was nice, and Simon knew he should’ve felt more appreciative - but it honestly felt like just another way of them fighting. They were still trying to one-up each other, even if it was just about who could please Simon more. 

 

Simon’s lock screen was a picture of him and Baz from earlier that year- he let Mordelia play a few apps on his phone, but apparently she got distracted. When Simon got his phone back- the camera roll was filled with pictures of him and Baz talking and laughing as they baked. Mordelia had been sitting at the kitchen table doing her homework while they were cooking- so they just hadn’t noticed. 

 

He wouldn’t admit it- but he liked having pictures of him and Baz. Simon always felt like a prat taking pictures of himself, and even more of a prat asking other people to take pictures of him, so it was nice. There were a few pictures where they were pulling funny faces, but it was mostly all smiles and flour-covered hands. The one he chose for his lockscreen was him and Baz laughing about something- he couldn’t remember what exactly- but he liked how happy he looked in it. 

 

Simon thought that picture showed exactly how he felt when he was with Baz. Like he was alive and that was a good thing- like he was worth something. Like he was safe, and loved- and it was  _ real.  _ Like being loved was something he could have. 

 

Before Simon could find his contacts and dial Baz’s number himself- his phone rang, and his screen lit up with Baz’s picture and his custom ringtone. Simon couldn’t help himself- he smiled as he pressed the green ‘accept call’ button- and closed his eyes. 

 

“What do you want, Pitch?” He said- and Simon could practically hear Baz’s eye roll through the phone. 

 

“I miss you,” Baz said- his voice crackling through the phone speakers. “ _ idiot. _ ”

 

“I’ve only been gone for like..” Simon paused, counting the hours on his hands. “five hours.” and then he added “ _ Nerd. _ ” 

 

“Whatever,” Baz replied. “Am I not allowed to miss my best friend?” 

 

“Not if you get all sappy,” Simon teased. “You’re like a fucking maple tree.” 

 

Simon heard Baz’s immediate laughter over the phone- and then the attempt to muffle it. “ _ I hate you _ .” Baz said- but Simon could virtually hear his smile. 

 

“Yeah, right.” Simon replied. “You love my bad puns- and me.” 

 

“Now look who’s the sap?” Baz replied- and Simon smiled- eyes still closed. He was exhausted.

 

“You’ve got me- I just love mushy, cheesy stuff-” Baz laughed at his friend, but Simon kept talking. “I’m a walking hallmark card.” 

 

It was another pun- and Baz let out a groan.“Uhg,” he said. “You’re the worst.” 

 

“The bratwurst.” Simon agreed- yawning loudly. 

 

“Shit,” Baz said suddenly. “You must be tired- you only make puns this bad when you’re tired.” 

 

“Mhhmm,” Simon replied. “You know me too well, Basil.” 

 

“Go to bed, Simon.” Baz urged. “We can talk tomorrow.” 

 

Simon rolled over. “It’s only like, nine.” 

 

“But you made the bratwurst pun,” Baz said. “That’s like. a tired Simon special.” 

 

“You’re right,” Simon conceded. “But if you know one thing about tired Simon- it’s that tired Simon stays up because he loves making bad puns.” 

 

“Yeah I know.” Baz replied. “You’re an idiot when you’re tired.” 

 

“I thought I was an idiot all the time” Simon said- and he let out another yawn. On the other end of the phone, Baz smiled fondly. 

 

“That too, Snow.” 

 

….

 

Baz was fucked. Totally, gloriously, completely fucked. 

 

A part of him had known from the beginning- but he didn’t completely realize it until recently. It had been a long weekend- So Simon was away for four nights instead of three and honestly Baz hated it. Their skype connection was always fuzzy- and the computer would freeze on Simon’s face; caught in a half smile. Of course, Baz would be annoyed because the computer screen froze- but he would also feel his heart stutter because Simon looked  _ hot  _ when he smiled like that. 

 

And then he’d feel angry at himself  _ again _ because you’re not supposed to think your friends are hot. You’re not supposed to want to kiss them. You’re not supposed to think back to that one time earlier in the year where you pretended to be fake dating to piss off a homophobic kid in your class. You’re not supposed to want that to be real because he held your hand and kissed your cheek and it felt so  _ good _ . 

 

You’re not supposed to be in love with your best friend. 

 

But Baz was- and that meant he was completely fucked. 

 

….

 

That summer was the hottest summer Baz and Simon had ever known- at 35  degrees, they didn’t know what to do with themselves. It had  _ never  _ been this hot- and the plants outside were shriveling up in the scalding heat. The grass crunched under their feet when they went on walks in the garden, but they didn’t go on many walks that summer. 

 

Instead, they lay on Baz’s bedroom floor because there was air conditioning in there- and the wooden floor was always cool against their hot skin. There wasn’t much they could do- but Simon spent as much time at the pool as possible. With swim practice every week day, he always showed up at Baz’s house with wet curls and chlorine-dried skin. 

 

Simon was spending so much time in the sun that he was getting freckles that hadn’t been there before- and Baz was sort of dying. He’d always had moles and a few freckles scattered across his body- but now more were appearing against Simon’s summer-bronzed skin. Across his shoulders, his nose- even on his forearms. It was fucking cute, and Baz was still fucking screwed. 

 

Realizing he liked Simon hadn’t really changed anything between them- besides the fact that the thoughts he tried so hard to ignore finally made sense. That’s probably how he realized, actually. Like the envelope in the back of his mind related to things he shouldn’t think about Simon Snow got too full- and burst open, leaving their imprints in the corners of his mind. 

 

He’d been making a list of things not to think about- but really making that list was just an indirect way of dwelling on his thoughts. (Like the thought of ‘if I go to Simon’s swim meet- he won’t be wearing a shirt and I’ll see all his stupid freckles.’) Simon was getting, really, really hard to ignore. 

 

Baz hadn’t noticed it as much before- but Simon was really touchy-feely, which would’ve been fine if it didn’t make Baz’s insides hum like he was on some sort of drug. Most recently, it had been squishing into the leather arm chair together. On movie nights, when his parents invited all their friends for a party- all the kids got herded into the living room together to watch a movie, even though they were thirteen. 

 

They were too big to fit into the chair together, really- but they tried anyways. Simon was perched precariously on the arm of the chair, and he tried to balance like that for awhile, but eventually he lost his patience. At that point, the golden haired boy leaned into Baz entirely, and wrapped an arm around his shoulder- steadying himself. 

 

Baz felt like screaming- because Simon was right next to him and he could smell the mixture of chlorine and sweat and (this time) mint-vanilla sugar scrub that was just  _ Simon.  _ He always smelled like chlorine and sugar, but everything else changed. Baz wondered if Simon’s mom would ever stop giving him homemade bath products, and if Simon ever bought the same type of shampoo twice. Probably not- Baz had seen the collection of empty shampoo bottles in Simon’s bathroom. It was the one time they went to his house, just to pick up clothes for a sleepover. 

 

Today, all Baz could smell was chlorine from his spot on the floor next to his friend. This had become a frequent summertime activity- biking the one-and-a-half miles it took to get to the convenience store in town. They’d go in, buy popsicles, and then sit on the curb- trying to eat them before they melted. After that they’d bike back to Baz’s house- and the sun would beat down on their backs, making them hot and sweaty by the time they returned. 

 

So Simon and Baz would sprawl out on the floor- because it was cooler than sitting on the furniture. It took at least fifteen minutes to really cool down- and when Simon peeled himself up from the floor that day, he had the distinct impression that he’d left sweat on the floor. 

 

“This weather is horrible.” Simon said, and Baz’s groan in response was enough to confirm his suspicions that the dark haired boy was just as miserable as Simon. 

 

“When will it end?” He moaned, rolling over onto his back, before finally standing and flopping down on his bed instead of the floor. “I’m going to get burned if it keeps on like this.” 

 

Simon perched himself on the edge of Baz’s bed- one leg hanging off, and one tucked underneath him. “Apparently it’s this bad in America the entire summer.” 

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Baz said- and Simon laughed. “ _ God _ \- their lives must suck.” 

 

“Imagine living in Australia.” Simon replied. “Apparently it gets up to fifty degrees there.” 

 

Baz sat up, a horrified expression on his normally elegant and refined features. “We’re  _ never _ moving to Australia.” Simon grinned- because Baz had said ‘we’ like he wanted Simon to be a permanent fixture in his life. Simon knew he wanted Baz in his life for as long as the other boy could put up with him. 

 

“There’s a warning for wildfires for the first time in ten years,” Simon said. “I heard it on the bbc last night- my dad was listening in his office.” 

 

His friend frowned. “Have there ever  _ actually  _ been wildfires around here?” 

 

“Apparently there was one like, fifty years ago.” Simon said. “And it’s dry enough that everything would just-” Simon mimed an explosion with his hands. “Go up in flames.” 

 

“Well,” Baz said. “I doubt anything’s going to happen- it’s hampshire.  _ Nothing  _ ever happens.” 

 

“Yeah,” Simon agreed. “You’re probably right.” 

 

….

 

In the end, it wasn’t a wildfire that killed Natasha Grimm-Pitch- it was a housefire. The Pitches had forgotten to have an electrician visit that year- and at around two o’clock in the morning, August twelfth, the wires in their guest bedroom caught alight. No one slept there, and by the time the alarms actually started to go off- it was too late. They must’ve been damaged, because the left wing of their manor went up in smoke without a single alarm going off. (It  _ was _ the wiring that caught on fire- at least that’s what the fire investigation said- so it would make sense that the alarms weren’t working.) 

 

By the time Baz stumbled out of his room- half choking on the smoke, his mother was in the hallway. He thought she was still alive- for a moment- but the unnerving stillness as the flames caressed her ruined body said otherwise. She was dead- but Baz saw her  _ burning _ , and he could smell the horrible stench of seared flesh in the air.

 

She was  _ dead _ .

 

And then he was crying-  _ mum, mum, mum, mum- please, please! _ \- his hands reaching for the fire- reaching to pull her away, or just burn himself- so he could wake from this awful nightmare.  _ Please, please, please- wake up, this is a dream, wake up!  _ Baz never got to his mother- someone, a fire fighter or his father just  _ someone- _ picked him up like he was a rag doll and carried him out of the flames. 

 

Baz’s head hurt too much, and his lungs were too full of smoke for him to struggle. He couldn’t remember much after that- and the doctor re-assuring him that it was ‘a normal response to a tragedy like this’ and that ‘you’re just in shock’- didn’t do much to help him. It didn’t explain why there was a gaping black hole in his memory- and why all he could see was his mother's burning corpse.  _ Dead.  _

 

She was dead. And Baz was alone.

 

….

 

The week after his mother died, Baz didn’t go to school. He stayed in a bed that was not his own (his grandmother’s house, on the other side of town) and he didn’t leave it. He  _ refused _ to leave it, and he didn’t eat- he  _ couldn’t _ eat. Everytime Baz tried he- thought about his mother again. He thought about the  _ burning  _ and the  _ smell  _ \- and it made him sick. He got sick so many times that he managed to throw up in every bathroom in the house.

 

So he stayed in bed, sometimes turning to his right and pretending that Simon was there with him -and that he’d be okay because his best friend was there. Simon  _ wasn’t _ there. Baz hadn’t told his friend where he was, and he had an alarming amount of missed calls on his shiny silver cell phone. He didn’t want to talk to Simon. He just wanted to hold someone who was real- he just wanted the nightmares to stop. 

 

They didn’t stop- closing his eyes and falling asleep was as bad as being awake because he couldn’t get the image of his mother out of his mind. Every time Baz looked down at his bandaged hands, he thought of the way he’d reached into the flames.  _ Please, wake up, please! _

 

Baz didn’t want to wake up anymore. 

 

….

  
  


The funeral was awful- but Simon was there. He’d shown up wearing a grey sport coat and black slacks- and he looked like he was swimming in them, but Baz was relieved because Simon was  _ there _ . Simon was there, and he was alive, and he hadn’t left Baz. 

 

Technically, his family hadn’t left him- but they were all adrift, mourning in their own ways. 

 

Mordelia had cried the first three days after Natasha died-  But she calmed down mostly after that- at least when it came to crying. She was still pitching fits almost every night because she wanted mum back “back  _ now _ !”- and Baz had to try not to scream at her because he wanted her back just as badly, but she was fucking  _ dead.- Mum’s never coming back. She’s never coming back because she’s dead, Mordelia, she’s fucking dead!  _ And there was nothing they could do about it. 

 

His father had been drinking away his grief- and even now at the funeral, Baz knew he had a flask of whiskey hidden in his sport coat. They were with Malcom’s mother at the moment- because their manor was undergoing renovations- which was a nice way of saying they were tearing down the burnt half of the house, and rebuilding it. It would be awhile before they could move back in- probably three months or so. Malcom’s mother clearly disapproved of his choice to drink away his problems- but she did nothing to stop Baz’s father besides pursing her lips and saying. “Malcom, darling, not around the children.” 

 

She was making the same face now- because in the middle of Natasha’s obituary (which his aunt Fiona was reading), Malcom took out his flask and discreetly sipped at it. Baz’s hand tightened around Simon’s- he didn’t care what it looked like or how confusing it would be later, he just needed someone to anchor him. Baz needed Simon to keep him from floating off into nothingness. 

 

He held Simon’s hand for the rest of the funeral.

 

….

 

Two months later, Baz was staring at walls- and sometimes he’d start his homework and stare at it for five minutes, and when he looked up, the orange glow of a sunset would be spilling in through his curtains. Baz spent hours doing nothing- and it felt like it was only moments. Sometimes the only thing that jerked him back to reality was his phone ringing- because then he had to pick up and answer robotically: 

 

“Hello?”

 

“Baz- it’s Simon.” 

 

“Oh.”  _ Simon. _

 

“Are you okay?” Simon asked, and Baz felt a sudden throb of  _ something  _ in his chest that hurt like a knife wound. He’d been jerked back to reality- but not a reality he wanted to live in, a reality paired with a thought.  _ My mother is dead. My mother is dead. My. mother. is. dead.  _ Thinking it hurt like a physical ache in his chest- and it never really went away. Anger, unbidden and unwanted curled in his stomach like a pit viper. 

 

“Fuck, Simon.” Baz replied, unable to keep the venom out of his voice. “What do you think?” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Simon said softly. “I miss her too.” 

 

He felt another wave of anger, this time tinged with hysteria- flooding through his system. “She wasn’t your mother.” 

 

“I know, but-” 

 

“So stop it,” Baz spat. “You don’t understand.” He felt like his heart was racing in his chest, and his hands were shaking. It was an effort to keep his breathing even- an effort he couldn’t manage

 

“Baz-” 

 

“You don’t get it Simon,” His head was pounding. She wasn’t Simon’s mother. “You just don’t get it-” and Baz might have been crying and it was because his mother was  _ dead.  _ And because he’d been mean to Simon just now- and he hated himself for doing it. “I’m sorry.” He choked out. “I’m sorry.” 

 

“I know.” Simon said. “I know it isn’t about me.” 

 

“I’m sorry.” Baz repeated- and this time he didn’t know who he was saying it to.  _ I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry _ \- over and over again. “I don’t know what to do.” He said out loud- and it hit him like a punch to the chest. He didn’t know what to do without her. Simon was saying something over the phone- but it all sounded wrong, like he was underwater. Baz couldn’t breathe. Baz couldn’t think. Baz couldn’t move.

  
  


His mother had taught him everything he’d ever needed to know- except how to live without her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> carly is mia at the moment so IM POSTING THIS THING. Y'ALL ARE WELCOME. come yell at me on tumblr at e-li-za.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz are best friends forever.

**_FOURTEEN YEARS OLD:_ **

 

“Is that violin recital thing this afternoon?” Simon asked, twirling a pencil between his fingers as he looked at Baz. They were in the library doing homework- except Simon wasn’t really doing his homework, he was playing with the pencils and drawing in the margins of his history notes. They had an essay due on monday- but he hadn’t written a single word. He’d worry about it later. 

 

“No.” Baz said, not bothering to look up from his biology notebook. 

 

“What?” Simon said, leaning back in his chair out of surprise. “I thought that was this week.” 

 

“Mhmm.” Baz hummed, shaking his head. 

 

“But it was marked on the calendar in your kitchen,” Simon pressed. “Did they cancel it?” 

 

“No,” Baz sighed, finally setting his pencil down and looking at his friend. He’d already finished their history essay and was ahead in latin, maths, and english- despite the school he missed last fall when Natasha died. “I’m just not doing it.” 

 

“Why not?” 

 

“Because,” Baz sighed again- a twinge of bitter grief in his chest. “I haven’t practiced in months.” 

 

It wasn’t the same playing the violin after, because it had been his mother’s favorite instrument- and every time he picked the bow up with his scarred hands, he wanted to throw it straight down again. It was too much. Playing her favorite songs without her there felt like praying to a god who wasn’t listening. She was the reason Baz had learned to play after all, and without her there to hear him play it felt useless. 

 

He’d tried to learn a few new songs- because he couldn’t bring himself to play the ones she taught him. Baz would find the sheet music, and then get out his violin and the bow before pulling the instrument up to his chin. That was as far as he ever got though, because his hands would start to shake, and his arms would go rigid. He couldn’t stop it- and he didn’t even know where it was coming from. It had to be psychological, because he was fine the rest of the time. 

 

It was just the things that reminded him of his mother that made his hands shake. Violin music. Freshly baked scones. The local radio station that she always liked better than the bbc. The medicine cabinet above the sink that still had her first aid kit. Countless other things- even if she was buried six feet under ground, her mark was still there. 

 

His mother had been like a star- too big and too bright, and when she died it was like a supernova, all the pieces of her scattered about and imprinted on the universe forever. 

 

Baz and Simon had just started at watford, too- the fancy secondary school she’d been headmistress at. It was even worse there, because of all the teachers stopped him in the halls to offer him condolences and say how: “your mother was an amazing woman.” Or: “You look just like her.” And even “If you’re the son of Natasha Grimm- Pitch, I’m sure we can expect great things from you.” 

 

“Baz?” Simon asked. “Why’d you stop practicing violin?”

 

Baz looked up at Simon and opened his mouth to say something- and then closed it. He shook his head, and Simon started to say something but then realized what his friend meant. Simon had grown used to the gaps in conversations around Baz’s mum- so he changed the subject. 

 

“Have you finished your history essay? I can’t get past the first paragraph without wanting to bang my head into a wall.” 

 

Baz’s lips twitched into a small smile- because of course Simon hadn’t started writing their essay. “Mine’s done,” Baz said. “But I have an outline for a topic I didn’t use if you want it.” 

 

“Really?” Simon asked, his eyes brightening. Baz felt a tugging sensation in his stomach- and then guilt. This was Simon- he wasn’t supposed to get butterflies because of his best friend. His best friend who was a boy. 

 

Baz’s small smile had fallen, but he faked it again. “Yeah, it’s on Napoleon Bonaparte.”

 

Simon wrinkled his nose- and somehow still managed to be cute while he did it. Baz didn’t understand how someone could do that and still be attractive. He also didn’t understand the way that Simon could go from cute to hot in less than a second.  

It happened all the time, he would be smiling and laughing and then his smile would turn into a crooked smirk and Baz had to struggle not to hit him (or kiss him)- because no one should be able to look that good. 

 

“At least I’m giving you an outline.” Baz said, passing a piece of paper covered in his neat handwriting over to his friend. 

 

Simon rolled his eyes. “Thank you, my ultimate saviour- I grovel at your feet.”  

 

Baz raised an eyebrow- “Do you want me to take it back?” 

 

Simon backpedalled. “Seriously, thank you. I’d probably fail without the outline.” 

 

“You’d probably fail without  _ me. _ ” Baz teased, and Simon kicked him under the table- but not hard enough to hurt. It was just a tap on the foot, really. 

 

“Hey!” Simon protested- but then he sighed. “Never mind, you’re probably right.” 

 

“Mhhm.” Baz hummed in silent agreement. “Lost without me.” 

 

“Shut up,” Simon said- but he didn’t deny it. He needed Baz as much as Baz needed him. “ _ Nerd. _ ” 

 

“Whatever,” Baz replied. “ _ Dork. _ ” 

 

“Love you.” Simon said, sudden and easy- like he didn’t have to think about it or what he meant when he said it. Baz swallowed. 

 

“Love you too.” 

 

It was frightening to realize how he meant it. 

 

….

 

Simon twirled in the desk chair in Baz’s room- his friend was sitting cross legged on the bed, and Simon had made himself comfortable elsewhere. 

 

“I’m going up to the city this weekend.” He said, spinning in another lazy circle. 

 

“You go up to the city every weekend.” Baz replied. “Why are you telling me this time?” 

 

“Because…” Simon said- although he was half singing it in repressed excitement. “Guess!” 

 

“Lucy’s making scones.” Baz said, and Simon picked up a spare pillow that was sitting on the desk to throw at Baz. It hit him square in the face- and the dark haired boy spluttered for a moment before glaring at his friend. 

 

“No!” Simon said. “Think bigger.” 

 

“You’re going to the louvre?” Baz said- because sometimes his family did that. A visit to Paris was only a train ride away, so it wasn’t  _ that _ unrealistic. 

 

“Think smaller.” Simon said. “It involves people.” 

 

“Lucy’s throwing a party?” 

 

“Uhg,” Simon sighed. “ _ No. _ ”

 

“Concert tickets?” Baz guessed. 

 

“I wish,” Simon said. “But you’re getting a little closer.” 

 

“Tickets to a play?” 

 

“They’re tickets for something-” Simon hinted. “But not an activity.” 

 

“Extra train tickets? Is your dad coming to visit, too?” Baz frowned, continuing to talk. “- Simon, I don’t see why you’d be excited about that. You complain that they fight enough already.” 

 

Simon groaned. “There’s an extra train ticket for  _ you _ \- idiot.” 

 

Baz sat still. “What?” 

 

“If you want one-” Simon added hurriedly. “My mum thought it would be fun if I brought a friend up for the weekend, and I wanted to invite you.” 

 

“Yes.” Baz said immediately. “I’ll come.” Asking his father was a mere formality- at this point, Malcom wasn’t paying much attention to Baz. His parenting was beginning to border on neglectful- but at least he took care of Mordelia. Baz thought he was alright with that, he could take care of himself- but he knew his little sister couldn't. He didn’t mind that he wasn’t getting attention, so long as she was. 

 

Simon’s face lit up. “Sweet- although we’ll have to share a room.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “And my bed isn’t as big as your one here, so it might be a little tight.” 

 

“That’s fine.” Baz said- even though he felt a sudden rush of nerves over it. “I don’t really care, we’ve been sharing a bed since we were kids, so it doesn’t matter.” 

 

“That’s what I thought,” Simon replied. “But now that we’re older people are weird about stuff like that, so I just thought I’d warn you.” 

 

“It’ll be fine.” Baz said. “It’ll only bother me if you start kicking me in your sleep like usual.” 

 

“I do  _ not _ kick in my sleep.” Simon shot back- sounding more offended than he probably should’ve been. “That’s you.” 

 

“Mhhm.” Baz hummed. “Likely story.” 

 

Simon rolled his eyes- but smiled over at his friend. Baz was his favorite person in the world- and for all their teasing and meaningless arguments, Simon loved him. 

 

….

 

Baz smiled politely at Lucy over the table. He was already exhausted- the long day of classes at Watford, coupled with his train ride to London had worn him out. At least Simon had been with him the whole time- which meant they could be tired together. The other boy had fallen asleep with his head on Baz’s shoulder during the train ride- and it was a struggle to keep still enough that Simon wouldn’t wake

 

His feelings for Simon still hadn’t magically dissipated, and the screaming urge to  _ touch _ still hadn’t gone away either. Baz didn’t know how he was going to survive this sleepover- he and Simon were already squished together in a booth, thigh to thigh. They were out for dinner, and the food  _ was _ good, but Baz was still much more focused on the other boy’s leg pressed against his. 

 

It was so  _ wrong  _ though _ \-  _ because it was Simon and he wasn’t supposed to feel this way about boys, and it was even worse because he felt this way about his best friend. You aren’t supposed to feel this way about your best friend. You aren’t supposed to think about kissing, hand holding, cuddling (or more than kissing, hand holding, cuddling- which Baz was still scared to think about, really.) 

 

But Baz thought about it anyways because he couldn’t really stop himself. How was he supposed to stop himself from thinking about Simon when he was always right there? How was he supposed to stop himself when Simon pulled at him like a magnet? Baz didn’t even know where to begin with all the little things that made Simon so irresistible- so he just decided not to. He wasn’t going to stop himself from falling for his friend- he was just going to stop himself from  _ acting _ on it. It would be easy, right? It  _ had _ to be easy- or Baz didn’t know what he was going to do with himself. 

 

“So what classes do you take?” Lucy asked- right as Baz was taking another bite of his chicken. They went out for italian food- and it was family style so all the portions were huge. He and Simon were sharing an order of chicken picatta- and Lucy got herself some vegetable-based pasta instead. 

 

“Hmm?” Baz managed around a mouthful of food, and Simon supplied an answer for his friend. 

 

“He’s in all the same classes as me, mum- except he takes a more advanced french class.”

 

Baz nodded vigorously, and finally swallowed his food. “It’s really fun, I love it.” 

 

“Of course you do.” Simon said, rolling his eyes. “Nerd.” 

 

“Simon!” Lucy chided. “That’s no way to talk to your friends.” 

 

“Nerd.” Simon repeated.

 

“Dork.” Baz grinned.

 

“King of the nerds.” Simon refused to be one-upped.

Lucy looked back in between the two boys, and almost opened her mouth to scold her son again- but then she saw the expression on his face and thought better of it. Simon might’ve been teasing his friend- but his expression was softer, and he seemed happier than usual. It was like Baz had smoothed over all of Simon’s sharp edges. The anxiety Lucy could always see on her son’s face when he visited had vanished- replaced with a wide smile and a tenderness in his eyes that she’d never seen before. Lucy thought that maybe, they were good for eachother. 

 

….

 

“I’m cold.” Simon whined, and kicked his friend under the covers. 

 

“Jesus, Simon!” Baz said- because Simon  _ was  _ cold- his feet were like ice cubes. “You didn’t have to do that, you idiot.”

 

“But I’m cold.” 

 

“What do you want me to do about it?” Baz said. “You’re already hogging the covers.” 

 

“Can we be like penguins?” Simon asked, and Baz rolled over to face his friend- they were only inches apart but they still weren’t touching. Simon’s bed was a double- so it was just big enough for them to lie next to each other without becoming completely entangled, but not big enough to be comfortable that way. Plus, it had a dip in the middle that they were both sliding into. 

 

“What the fuck is ‘being like penguins’?”

 

“Huddle for warmth.” Simon said- and even though he couldn’t quite see Baz’s face in the darkness, he knew the eyebrow arch was there. Simon envied Baz’s eyebrows- he was a master at using them to express cool distain or subtle distaste. Simon could never do that- he had to work infinitely harder to make his expressions ‘cool’ or ‘subtle.’ Baz could always read him like a book- but half the time Simon had no idea what was going on inside his friend’s head. 

 

“What?” Baz said- for once sounding like he’d been struck dumb. 

 

“Uhg,” Simon said. “Just cuddle with me.” He didn’t wait for Baz to say anything in response, he just wrapped his arms around his friend’s waist and pulled himself in close. “Yeah, this is better.” He rested his head against Baz’s chest. “Warm.” 

 

“I’m not your personal space heater.” Baz grumbled- but he made no move to disentangle himself from Simon. It was an effort not to move one of his hands and wind it through Simon’s curls. It was also an effort to keep his breath from catching in his throat. Baz was fucked. 

 

“Mmm.” Simon mumbled. “Yes you are.” 

 

“I won’t be if you don’t let me move my arm.” Baz said. “You’re sort of crushing it.” 

 

“Oops.” Simon said, and sat up, giving his friend time to re-adjust. “Can I come back now?” 

 

“Uhg,  _ Fine _ .” Baz said- and Simon could practically hear the eye roll in his voice. He ignored the other boy’s reluctance, and curled back up against his friend, slipping one leg between Baz’s own so they were tangled together. His friend shivered- and Simon suddenly felt a little guilty- not knowing that Baz  _ really  _ wasn’t cold. 

 

“Sorry.” Simon said. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was freezing.” 

 

“I know.” Baz said. “It’s fine, I’m just really tired.”

 

“We can go to bed.” Simon said, and Baz shifted, putting an arm around Simon- it was more comfortable that way, right? That was why he was putting his arm around Simon. Not because he wanted to- because that would be weird. Except maybe it wouldn’t be, because Simon felt safe in Baz’s arms.

 

“I thought that going to bed was the entire point of this?” 

 

“Yeah,” Simon replied. “Can’t sleep when I’m cold.” 

 

“Well,” Baz said. “You’re not cold anymore, right?”

 

“Mhhmm.” Simon hummed contentedly- burying his face in Baz’s side. “Much warmer.”

 

“You’re such a dork.” Baz said- but all he got in response was another half hummed answer.

 

“Mm.. goodnight Basil.”

 

Baz sighed- and ignored the fluttering in the pit of his stomach.“Goodnight, idiot.” 

 

….

 

The world around Baz was on fire- and Simon was in the centre of it all.

 

Baz was in his old house- and the golden haired boy was standing at the end of the hall, his back turned to his friend. The whole hallway was ringed in fire- and sparks were catching on Simon’s white, cotton tee-shirt. 

 

“Simon!” Baz called- but he choked on the smoke in the air. He could taste it in his mouth and his lungs. There was suddenly ash on his tongue- and he coughed. “Simon!” 

 

The other boy seemed unable to hear Baz- or maybe he was just unwilling to listen. His shirt was going up in flames, and so were his arms. Baz opened his mouth again- but no sound came out. He tried again- but the world was silent. Baz couldn’t even hear the crackle of the flames around him anymore. His throat felt raw because he was screaming  _ please please please, not him too, not him please-  _ and he could feel himself moving but he didn’t make it any closer to Simon.

 

The other boy was always at the end of the hallway- no matter how fast Baz ran. He could see it all though- the way the fire licked up Simon’s arms and left angry red marks over his golden skin. Baz wasn’t fast enough- and when his voice finally started working again, all he could do was let out another strangled cry as Simon turned to face him. 

 

His friend was saying something but Baz couldn’t hear over the sudden roar of the fire, and he couldn’t read Simon’s lips past the smoke. 

 

“Please!” Baz said, like he could stop the fire from swallowing the only person he really loved whole. “Not him, you can’t have him too, _ please _ not him.” 

 

But Simon’s head had finally caught flame- and when he smiled at Baz he wasn’t Simon any more. It was Natasha, burning in front of his eyes for the third night that week. She smiled. 

 

“Baz.” 

 

“ _ Baz!” _

 

He shot awake- sitting up straight and frantically looking around the darkened room. Baz was breathing heavily, and his heart felt like it was beating a million miles per hour. 

 

“Are you..” Simon said- and Baz turned to him. 

 

“It was just a dream.”  _ Just a dream. Just. a .dream.  _ Maybe repeating the words would make him believe them. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” 

 

“You don’t sound fine.” Simon said skeptically. “You kept on saying ‘please’.” 

 

Baz felt his already fraying nerves tighten like a knot in the pit of his stomach. “What else did I say?” 

 

Simon was quiet for a moment- and when his answer came, it was whisper soft. “you said ‘not him’.” Baz went completely still- and Simon reached out an arm to pull Baz back down into the bed. “What were you dreaming about?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

 

“Baz..” Simon said, and tucked a dark lock of hair Baz hadn’t even noticed behind his ear. “You know you can tell me anything.” 

 

“I know.” He sighed. “I just..” 

 

“Hey” Simon said, his voice unusually soft. “It’s okay.” 

 

“It was just about my mum.” Baz admitted. “I was back in my house, with the fire and-” 

 

“Who was the ‘he’ you were talking about?” Simon interrupted. 

 

Baz felt a hot flush to his cheeks- and he was glad it was too dark for Simon to really see his face. He wasn’t about to admit he’d been dreaming about his best friend, so he made up a lie instead. “It was my dad.” 

 

“I’m sorry.” Simon said, and pulled himself back against Baz’s chest like earlier. It was at once a comforting and exhilarating to have Simon so close to him, and Baz hoped his friend couldn’t hear his heartbeat. It was moving faster than it should’ve been, but technically he could pass it off as leftover adrenaline from his nightmare.  

 

“Yeah,” Baz said. “It’s fine- it just happens sometimes.” 

 

“Wait,” Simon said- his face still pressed into Baz’s chest. “Do have a lot of dreams like this?” Baz stayed silent - which was enough for Simon. “How often do these nightmares come?”

 

Baz shrugged, and Simon hugged him tighter. He knew it was just because Simon was worried, and sleepy, and  _ stupid _ \- but he still felt a rush of warmth through his veins. Of course, being with Simon still felt like he was coming home- but it felt like coming home after months of being away. Excitement and familiarity and love wrapped up all into one. And Baz was holding the object of his love in his arms- which was enough to make him feel safe. It was enough to keep the wolves in his head at bay. 

 

“Are they always about the same thing?” 

 

Baz nodded- but it wasn’t quite the truth. He was always in the burning house, and his mother was always there to haunt him- but it was worse when Simon appeared in his dreams. Because in those dreams he always lost the only thing he was hanging onto. Baz let out a shuddering breath, and Simon moved to brush the dark hair out of his eyes. 

 

“It’s over now.” Simon reminded him, resting his head on Baz’s chest again- so his lips were brushing against the thin fabric of Baz’s t-shirt. “You’re safe- they’re just dreams.”

 

“I know.” He felt his throat tighten up. “But I can’t stop them. They just keep coming back.” 

 

“Oh Baz,” Simon whispered. “The past should stay dead.” 

 

….

 

Simon didn’t think he could possibly enjoy a violin recital- except Baz was playing in it. He still didn’t really want to go- because it was a saturday and he was missing a swim meet for this, but he wanted to support Baz. His friend had finally started playing the violin again, three months ago- but Simon wasn’t allowed to watch him practice anymore. Baz wouldn’t explain why- and Simon wouldn’t push him about it, considering the fact that it was probably related to his mum or the fire. 

 

Everything different about Baz was related to his mum or the fire. Simon didn’t expect him to be fine- no one would, but he didn’t expect Baz to change so much either. It was like everything was switched- Simon was the confident one now, and Baz hung back from the things he loved. He was still smarter than the other boy, and he still got better grades- but he didn’t raise his hand in class as much, and he never did extra credit projects anymore.

 

Baz never  _ needed  _ to do extra credit projects- but he used to do it for fun, which proved Simon’s choice nickname true. He  _ was  _ a nerd- but Simon thought he was amazing anyways. The golden haired boy was the one who actually needed to do the projects, and even though Baz wouldn’t do Simon’s for him- he either helped or he did a project too, just so Simon didn’t have to do one all by himself. 

 

It was selfless and ridiculous and such a  _ Baz  _ thing to do- so Simon thought he might as well make up for it. Of course, he knew he could never really re-pay Baz for being there for him all his life, and letting him latch on to the Pitches when his own family fell apart. But now it was the other way around- Baz’s family was more of a mess than his, and Simon was going to do his best to take care of his friend. 

 

There were always dark purple half-moons stamped under Baz’s eyes from the nights he woke up screaming at four am. Simon wished he could make them disappear, but he couldn’t. He could only watch from a distance and try and support Baz whenever the other boy would let him- which wasn’t very often. Simon was starting to think Baz had problems with accepting help- but he did let Simon coax him into going to bed an hour earlier than normal over the phone last night. Well, really it was facetime audio- but the details didn’t matter. Simon was just glad to hear Baz’s voice. 

 

“I don’t want to go.” Baz said. “But I’m really tired.” 

 

“Okay,” Simon replied. “So just go to bed- I’ll just hang up once you fall asleep.” 

 

“That’s so rude.” Baz said. “It makes me feel like a bad friend to be on the phone with you and just... fall asleep.” 

 

Simon rolled his eyes even though Baz couldn’t see him. “You couldn’t be a bad friend if you tried- plus, you need to go to bed. You have the fancy violin thing tomorrow.” 

 

“But I want to keep talking with you.” 

 

“Baz,” Simon reminded him. “I’ve been holding up the conversation for the past half hour and you’ve been yawning.” 

 

“ _ Fine _ .” Baz said. “I might not be talking, but I don’t want you to stop.” 

 

“And I won’t,” Simon promised. “I’ll just hang up once you fall asleep.” 

 

His friend was silent on the other end of the line for a moment, and when he spoke again Simon had to turn up the volume on his headphones to hear better. “What if I wake up.” 

 

“You know what,” Simon said. “Let’s just leave the call on- I don’t care about hearing your weird sleep kicking over the phone.” 

 

“That’s you.” Baz grumbled, and Simon smiled. 

 

“Go to sleep.” 

 

“Yes  _ mum _ ,” Baz said- and Simon could almost hear the eye roll.

 

“Night Baz.” 

 

“Mmm.” his friend mumbled. “Night ‘Si.” 

 

After that, Baz’s end went mostly quiet, but Simon still sat on his bed absently humming along to the new grimes album as he did his history homework. Really, it wasn’t much different than hanging up- except he could hear sheets rustling and Baz’s occasional sleep-talking. (Simon tried not to listen, it seemed too intimate- but he did catch his own name a few times.) He still hadn’t seen Baz yet today, so he wasn’t sure how much the phone call had really helped, but he’d find out after the show. For now he had to sit through twelve other violin players- and then finally Baz. 

 

It was going to be a rough morning, and by the time Baz actually got up on stage- wearing dark slacks and a white button down- Simon’s brain felt numb. Seeing his friend was enough to coax him out of his stupor though- and he leaned forward in his seat. He almost waved- but then remembered that probably wasn’t polite, considering the fact that he was in a crowd full of music snobs. It made Simon feel uncomfortable, really, but he’d put up with it for Baz. 

 

He’d probably put up with anything for Baz. 

 

When the piece started- Simon payed attention. It was probably bach, or mozart, but he really didn’t give a flying fuck. All he cared about was Baz- and the way he held the bow in his hands and the instrument under his chin. His dark hair was falling in his face, and really, he should’ve thought to bring a hair tie. Simon knew Baz looked good with his hair up, but it probably wasn’t ‘professional’ enough- and his hair gel wasn’t doing enough to keep his hair in place with how fiercely he was playing. 

 

Baz was playing like it was the last thing he was ever going to do, and Simon couldn’t help but watch the way his shoulders slid under the thin, starched shirt. Or how his hands were moving so fast he could barely keep track of them. Simon had never really stopped to look at Baz’s hands before- but now he watched his friends long fingers dancing over the strings. Baz had nice hands, Simon decided- musicians hands. 

 

Musicians hands, and silky black hair, and long legs, and strong arms, and a beautiful soul. As Simon watched Baz, it dawned on him for the first time that ‘just friends’ didn’t look at each other the way he was looking at Baz. Just friends didn’t stay on the phone all night and fall asleep to the sound of the other’s breathing. Just friends didn’t make your pulse speed up and stutter over a smile. 

 

Simon realized ‘just friends’ wasn’t the way he saw Baz. 

 

And then he panicked. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> carly is mia at the moment so IM POSTING THIS THING. Y'ALL ARE WELCOME. come yell at me on tumblr at e-li-za.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz are best friends forever.

**_FIFTEEN YEARS OLD:_ **

 

Baz was lying in the park- and Simon was right beside him. They were using his jacket as a blanket, but it wasn’t quite wide enough. Baz’s knees were hanging off the end- and he knew that later they’d be itchy from the grass. At the same time it annoyed him- he wouldn’t say anything about it, because that meant Simon would move and then Simon wouldn’t be right next to him. 

 

Baz wanted Simon to stay right next to him.

 

It was May- there were only a few weeks left of school, and it was a friday too, so they were allowed to dress out of uniform. It was warm enough that both boys opted for shorts- Simon in a pair of patagonia ones that were short enough that he got raised eyebrows, but no dress code violations. It was ridiculous, really- Penelope had gotten detention for wearing a skirt last week that was at least two inches longer than Simon’s shorts- and he got nothing but frowns and a few admiring glances. 

 

They weren’t  _ ridiculously _ short- but they weren’t as long as Baz’s chinos either, so it was a little distracting. Simon had nice legs, from all the swimming. He was already tanned and freckled because his team had switched from using the indoor pool to the outdoor pool halfway through april- and today it meant Simon looked all too good. 

 

After school, because the weather was so nice- they decided to go to a local coffee shop and then the park. Of course, when they actually got to the park- neither of them felt like sitting down and hitting the books like they’d planned. Instead they spread Baz’s jacket out on the ground as wide as possible- so they could both try and fit on it. Simon’s shoulders were too wide, and Baz’s legs were too long- so they couldn’t quite squeeze on to it comfortably- but they sat there anyways, drinking their iced coffees and playing music off of Simon’s phone. 

 

By now, nearly an hour later- Baz had pulled out his book, and Simon was half asleep with one arm slung over his face to block out the sun. He was rocking his knee back and forth to the music, bumping it into Baz’s side- the only sign he was still awake. 

 

“Do you like this song?” Baz asked, pushing his sunglasses up on his nose. They had started to slide down his face- because he was lying on his stomach with his book out on the grass. 

 

“Mhhmm.” Simon replied sleepily. “If I didn’t I wouldn’t’ve put it on the playlist.” 

 

“What’s the playlist?” Baz asked, he knew the other boy had dozens- sometimes he staked Simon’s spotify account. Recently a playlist had popped up, but it was just a “<3” and nothing else. It made Baz feel a little sick to his stomach-  because it was probably for someone Simon  _ liked. _ It was especially bad because of the youngblood hawke song he’d put in it. That had been their song of the summer last year, they listened to it sprawled out on Baz’s bedroom floor, and biking to the reservoir on the other side of town to go swimming.  

 

“Simon’s favorites.” Simon said. “It’s my favorites.” 

 

“I never would've guessed.” Baz deadpanned- and tried to take another sip of his iced coffee. It was mostly water now- more of a  _ suggestion _ of iced coffee than an actual iced coffee. 

 

“Mmhmm.” Simon hummed- the sun had made him warm and sleepy, and he didn’t have enough motivation or energy to supply a real comeback to Baz’s teasing. 

 

Baz changed the subject. “You’re going to get a sunburn.” 

 

“So are you,” Simon shot back. “And you’ll look like a racoon because you’ve been wearing those stupid sunglasses.” He sat up. “Who gave you these, anyways? They make you look like a prick.” 

 

Baz rolled his eyes. “I picked them out myself.” 

 

Simon tsked. “You make horrible fashion decisions.” 

 

“Says the kid wearing patagonia shorts.” 

 

“Shut up,” Simon replied. “They’re  _ functional. _ ” 

 

“And really short, trying to catch someone’s eye, Snow?” 

 

Now Simon was the one rolling his eyes. “They’re comfortable, plus, Agatha told me they make my butt look good.”

 

Baz’s stomach roiled. “Doesn’t that bother you?” 

 

“What,” Simon asked. “Agatha?” Baz nodded- and Simon started laughing. 

 

“What?” Baz said. “What’s so funny?” 

 

“She’s  _ ace _ , Baz.” Simon said, bumping shoulders with his friend. “She doesn’t like me like that.” 

 

“ _ What _ ?” Baz said- and Simon sighed. 

 

“Ace, Aesxual, not attracted to people sexually.” 

 

“Stop,” Baz said. “How do you know this? How does  _ she  _ know this?” 

 

“She told me.” Simon said- and now he looked annoyed. “Are you against that or something?”

 

“No!” Baz said quickly- he was far from being able to judge anyone’s sexuality. “I just didn’t expect it. And I don’t know, I just can’t imagine…” He trailed off. “Saying it that easily.” 

 

“Oh.” Simon said. “I can sort of understand that. It would be really scary to come out.” 

 

“Wait,” Baz said. “Are  _ you  _ ace?” 

 

Simon’s grin was wide and teasing. “Nope.” 

 

Baz realized he’d never asked what Simon was- He’d never even stopped to consider the possibility that maybe Simon liked boys too. He’d just been caught up in the fact that he liked boys, and more importantly that he liked Simon. Baz didn’t think that Simon would ever like him back- he didn’t think Simon  _ could _ like him back because being gay wasn’t normal.  _ Baz  _ wasn’t normal. 

 

He couldn’t help himself. “Are you straight?” 

 

Simon’s grin widened. “Are  _ you _ ?” 

 

Baz was at a loss for words- because he knew the answer, that no, he was very much  _ not _ straight. He hadn’t kissed anyone ever- so technically he didn’t have conclusive proof that he was very, completely, exclusively into boys; but he’d never thought of girls that way. He never had dreams about their soft hands and long hair- he’d only had dreams about miles of tanned skin and blue eyes. 

 

He shook his head. 

 

“What do you think you are?” Simon asked- and then added. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. I respect that.” 

 

“No,” Baz said- and his mouth felt dry. “It’s okay, you’re my best friend. I can tell you anything.” 

 

Simon smiled. “That’s what I’m here for.” 

 

“Yeah,” Baz said. “I think I’m gay.” 

 

“Okay.” Simon said. “That’s okay- I don’t care that you’re gay.” 

 

Baz nodded- not really able to talk after what he’d finally admitted. It had been sitting there in the back of his mind for at least a year- that he was gay, but he never said it. 

 

Simon continued on- and Baz looked away. “- I mean, I care that you’re gay, because that’s a part of your identity. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you.” He smiled reassuringly at Baz. “I don’t think anything will.” 

 

“Okay.” Baz said- letting out another sigh, looking up at his friend again. “Thank you.” 

 

“Yeah,” Simon said- and bumped his bare knee against Baz’s. “It’s fine.  _ You’re  _ fine. You’re always going to be my best friend.” 

 

“Thank you.” Baz said. “Please don’t tell anyone, I’m not…” He paused- unsure how to word it. “I’m not ready to tell anyone. I don’t know how my dad feels about that stuff.” 

 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Simon said- swallowing his nerves. “I don’t think I’m straight either.” 

That got Baz’s attention. “ _ Really? _ ” 

 

Simon shrugged. “I dunno, I’ve had a crush on a boy before so I guess it means I’m not straight.” 

 

“But you’ve had crushes on girls too?” Baz asked- searching his friend’s face for answers. Simon nodded. “So are you bi?”

 

Simon shrugged again. “I don’t know. I try not to think about it too much.”

 

“Why not?” Baz asked- and Simon tilted his face up to the sky so he didn’t have to make eye contact. His friend could read him like a book- and his crush was the last thing he wanted to give away. 

 

“I’d rather focus on who I like as an individual person.” Simon closed his eyes- but he could see the red of his eyelids with the sun shining through them. “I don’t really focus on what their gender is. I just focus on them.” 

 

“Oh.” Baz said. “That makes sense.” 

 

“Mhmm,” Simon hummed. “At least it makes sense to one of us.” 

 

“What?” Baz asked- and his friend sighed. 

 

“It’s just really confusing. I never thought I liked boys like that and then I got a crush on this guy and I..” He trailed off, plucking blades of grass and twisting them between his fingers. 

 

“And you?” Baz prompted- trying to ignore the twinge in his chest when Simon admitted he had a crush on someone. 

 

“And I just sort of stopped to think about it.” Simon said. “And then I realized it was there the whole time- I just wasn’t looking.” 

 

“Yeah.” Baz said- unsure how to continue. He didn’t want to be jealous, and he didn’t want to be bitter- but he tasted acid in his mouth when he thought of someone else reaching for Simon. When he thought of someone else’s hands touching him. Baz knew that was wrong, too, and that made it even worse. He shouldn’t be feeling the way he was, but he couldn’t help it. Baz looked away from Simon for a moment- and pushed his sunglasses up on his face so his friend couldn’t see him.  _ Simon will never be mine.  _ Baz reminded himself, but another thought popped into his head- and ached in his chest.  _  But for a time I was his.  _

 

…..

 

Simon was exhausted- He’d just finished a relay race, and really he just wanted to pick up iced coffees and head over to Baz’s house- but he had to go up to London for the weekend. It was a saturday, so really he should’ve been up there already, but he had practice and then a meet (Baz couldn’t make it- which was fine, because Simon’s thoughts were a mess about him at the moment.) So he stayed home with his father on friday night. 

 

They ordered in chinese food and ate it in separate rooms, Davy typing in his office and Simon sitting alone at the kitchen table. He thought it was probably easier that way, and at this point he’d given up on his father caring. Simon reached a point eventually where it didn’t even bother him that David didn’t give a shit- it had been that way his entire life and it was too much energy to care, too much energy to let himself be angry or sad about anything else in his life. 

 

If his father wasn’t going to make an effort, neither was Simon. 

 

Of course, when Lucy was involved- everything was different. His parents still had a weird hateful grudge against each other, which was exhausting to deal with- because they had nothing to fight over anymore except him. Most recently they’d been arguing about who got him over christmas- even though that was four months away. It was like they were  _ looking  _ for excuses to fight.

 

He really didn’t want to deal with it- but it was unavoidable because he was the object of their fights. It was always “Well what do you want, ‘Si?” Or “I really think it would be best for him if he stayed here.” Simon thought he should at least be a little happy about it, because the arguing meant they cared, right? But as soon as the phone was hung up- his father would go back to ignoring him, or his mother would sigh and apologize before returning to her laptop and typing up some business proposal. 

 

It wasn’t a surprise, and it didn’t hurt the way it used to. The subtle dismissal just felt like an ache in his bones- and a part of him wanted to do  _ something _ , anything so they looked and listened and  _ cared  _ for just a moment. 

 

Maybe if he did something other than swimming or his homework- or spending all his time with Baz, they’d pay attention to him. Sometimes he wondered if he got himself in trouble, would they say anything? They had to, really, they were his parents and if he did anything wrong it was their fault as much as his. For a few fleeting moments every now and then- he thought it might be worth it to do something stupid, just so they looked at him, even if it was with disappointment in their eyes. 

 

Simon never did though, he stayed out of trouble (to the best of his ability) and spent most of his time studiously avoiding his growing feelings for Baz while juggling school work and swimming. Luckily, that was enough to keep him busy most of the time- just doing his homework took him at least two hours at night, and swim practice was another three. He generally didn’t have time to think about Baz  _ that _ way during the day- because they were too busy talking about harry potter, or class work, or how vastly gigantic space was. (“Aliens are totally real, Baz!”)

 

It was only in quiet moments where their silence felt heavy- or at the end of the day, right before he went to bed- that he got to think about Baz. That he allowed himself to think about all the things he loved about Baz that he couldn’t think about the rest of the time, selfish, stupid things. Simon let himself think about how kind and funny and smart Baz was all the time- but he didn’t let himself think about how fucking hot Baz was until he was half asleep- or standing in the shower with shampoo in his hair. 

 

(Baz was really fucking hot- especially when he wore his fancy dress shirts and Simon could see his muscles shifting beneath the starched fabric. Or when he was doing his homework and he held a pencil between his teeth and Simon thought about Baz biting him- which was probably fucked up. Who wants their crush to  _ bite  _ them? Him, apparently.) 

 

By the time Simon picked up dinner and got to his mum’s flat (she gave him a key for his fifteenth birthday, and an oyster card) it was already seven o’clock. Baz said he wanted to skype at eight, and that meant Simon had to say hello to his mum, eat his dinner, and take a shower in an hour. It shouldn’t’ve been that hard, but Lucy spent fifteen minutes talking about a new business proposal, and then another ten talking about a scrub she wanted to send home with him- vanilla and wintergreen mint, apparently. 

 

Simon nodded politely until he finally received the smile and dismissive wave that meant he was free to go. After that, he scarfed down the sandwich he’d picked up and jumped in the shower. Still, that took him fifteen minutes and when he finally flipped the lid of his laptop open, his hair was dripping water over the keyboard- which Baz was sure to scold him about. It didn’t matter- Simon wouldn’t even care if Baz spent fifteen minutes lecturing him trigonometry, because it was  _ Baz _ \- and Simon would always listen to him. Listen, and stare, and get sidetracked in his own head because his friend was tying his hair back and then snapping his fingers. 

 

Yeah, Simon was screwed- and they hadn’t even started skyping yet. 

 

He pulled out his phone, and sent a quick message to Baz. 

 

[ simon:  _ do u want to skype now?? _ ]

 

A few short seconds later as Simon was typing in his password and username, his phone buzzed. 

 

[ baz:  _ yeah, are you on already? _ ]

 

In response, Simon clicked the blue bubble next to Baz’s name and watched as his the video chat window lit up, ringing incessantly. A dark, blurry version of Baz appeared on his screen- and Simon smiled as his friend came into focus. 

 

“Hi.” Baz said- he was in his bedroom, Simon could tell by the highly-pixelated background, covered in movie posters that they’d snagged from a second-hand store in oxford circus last year. 

 

“Hey,” Simon was grinning- he couldn’t stop  _ grinning _ . “What’s up?”

 

Baz rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who called first, moron. Shouldn’t I be asking that?” 

 

“Okay, fine.” Simon replied. “Ask me your questions, nerdlet.” 

 

Baz’s lips were twitching, but he was doing his best to keep his ‘what the fuck, Simon’ face on- the one with the judgy eyebrows and half-frown. “Did you just call me  _ nerdlet _ ?” 

 

“Mhhm.” Simon smirked. “Nerdlet- I think it’s fitting.” 

 

Baz rolled his eyes and gave a half-hearted “Fuck you.” 

 

“You wish.” Simon shot back- before he could stop to think about it. Baz started spluttering. 

 

“Simon!” 

 

Now Simon  _ was _ thinking about it- and he knew he was probably as red as a tomato. He smiled awkwardly and tried for a weak attempt at a joke- anything to play off what he’d just said. “The banter got too real.” And then quickly added “Mate.” Because he knew Baz hated when he said that. 

 

As if on cue, the tension melted off his friend’s shoulders- and he let out a groan. “I  _ hate  _ you.”

 

“Yeah,” Simon said- a half apologetic smile on his face. “I’m kind of the worst.” 

 

“Kind of?” Baz echoed, one eyebrow perfectly arched. 

“Definitely the worst.” 

 

“The bratwurst.” Baz said- and now Simon was the one groaning. 

 

“Did you have to bring back that pun? I was  _ thirteen _ .” 

 

Baz shrugged. “Baz puns are forever.” 

 

“Fuck,” Simon sighed. “You’re never going to let me live that one down.” 

 

“Nope.” Baz said- and now he was smiling at his friend. 

 

“I don’t even like you.” Simon said- and then he narrowed his eyes. “ _ You’re  _ the worst.” 

 

“Nope,” Baz repeated. “That’s you.” 

 

_ No. _ Simon thought- and took a moment to admire his friend. He was all long, dark eyelashes, coppery skin, and the dazzling smile that didn’t show up nearly enough.  _ Baz _ . It was just him and Baz- Simon and Baz forever. Best friends…  _ just  _ friends. Even if it didn’t feel that way.  _ It’s you.  _ Simon thought.  _ It’s always you.  _

 

…

  
  


Simon was at his mum’s house for christmas- it turned out, and his dad’s house for new years. It would be fine, really- maybe even  _ good _ \- except Baz had to stay back in Hampshire. 

 

Of course, he didn’t expect that Baz would be able to come with him- but a part of him hoped he’d be able to stay home with his dad and spend most of winter break hopping between Baz’s house and the library. That however, wasn’t the case. His mum had won the argument about who got him for the holidays- and so he came up to London. At first, he wasn’t going to come back to Hampshire until the last day of break- but he’d begged Lucy until she said he could have New Year’s at home. 

 

It would still be almost two weeks without seeing his best friend- which Simon realized, would probably be the longest they’d ever been apart. They saw each other at school every day, and when summer came they made plans so they were together. When Simon had to go up to London for two weeks, he convinced his mum to let Baz come. They built their lives around each other- and when they just couldn’t make things work, it ached like a thorn in Simon’s side. 

 

There was always skype- but Simon’s computer was crashing a bunch, and he always felt bad when their connection dropped because of his technical difficulties. He almost thought it would be better to not skype at all than to skype and have the call drop every fifteen seconds. So they’d been texting a lot. 

 

[baz:  _ what are you up to _ ]

 

[simon:  _ suffering _ ]

 

[baz:  _ is ur mum having another one of those business people parties _ ]

 

Simon typed out a quick response. [ simon:  _ ultimate suffering _ ]

 

[baz:  _ i’ll take that as a yes _ ]

 

[simon:  _ at least the food’s good _ ]

 

[baz:  _ what is it _ ]

 

[simon:  _ they have sticky toffee pudding _ ]

 

[baz:  _ holy shit  _ ]

 

[simon:  _ ik _ ]

 

[baz:  _ please bring me some] _

 

[simon:  _ if only it was that easy _ ]

 

[baz:  _ i miss you _ ]

 

[baz:  _ dork. _ ]

 

[simon:  _ do you actually miss me or do you miss me because i have good food _ ]

 

[baz:  _ both _ ]

 

Simon smiled down at his phone, typing out another text before his mother could scold him for using his phone at the dinner table. [simon:  _ thought so _ ]

 

[baz:  _ yeah.. Ur not that great _ ]

 

[simon:  _ i’m offended _ ]

 

[baz:  _ i’m only friends with u for the scones _ ]

 

[simon:  _ and the banter _ ]

 

[baz:  _ yeah, that too _ ]

 

[simon:  _ nerd _ ]

 

[baz:  _ dork _ ]

 

His hands shook a little as he typed his response. [simon:  _ ily _ ]

 

[baz:  _ ily2 _ ]

 

[baz:  _ dork _ ]

 

Simon was smiling down at his phone- and he couldn’t stop. 

 

…

 

Both boys spent their winter break that way, sneaking their phones under the table and smiling down into their laps like they had a secret- which they sort of did. It wasn’t really a secret though- because to anyone who saw Simon when he was looking at his phone, the small smile on his face was something tender and hopeful. Something like love. 

 

“Baz,” Mordelia said- annoyed. “What are you smiling at?”

 

He wrenched his gaze away from the phone in his hands. “Hmm?” 

 

She rolled her eyes. “What’s on your phone? You’re smiling at it like a love-sick idiot.” 

 

“Nothing.” Baz said quickly. “I’m not doing anything.” 

 

His little sister narrowed his eyes. “You’re not doing  _ nothing. _ ” 

 

“It’s none of your business, Mordy.” 

 

“Oooh,” She teased. “Are you texting Simon? Your boyfriend?” 

 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Baz said- but didn’t deny who he was texting. 

 

“Then why are you smiling like that?” 

 

“I’m  _ not. _ ” Baz said. “Please stop.” 

 

“You like him.” Mordelia said- and Baz swallowed. His father wasn’t in the room- but he didn’t think his eleven year old sister would be confronting him about his crush on Christmas Eve. 

 

“We’re just friends, Mordelia.” 

 

“Mhhm.” She responded- his denial wasn’t worth a full answer. It was so obvious that Baz liked Simon- every time his phone buzzed his face lit up like a christmas tree, and whenever she saw the two boys around the house- they were always touching some way. Shoulders bumping and playful shoves, or sitting closer to each other than they really needed to. 

 

“Seriously.” Baz said- a pained expression on his face. 

 

“You’d be cute together.” She said- and Baz’s eyebrows furrowed even more. 

 

“I don’t like him like that.” 

 

“Okay.” Mordelia said- rolling her eyes. Baz’s phone buzzed- and he looked down into his lap. 

 

“It’s Simon, I have to-” 

 

“Go text your boyfriend.” Mordelia said, waving her hands. “Shoo, I don’t need to see you being all sappy on your phone.” 

 

“It’s not like that,” Baz said. “He’s not my boyfriend.” 

 

“Whatever you say, big brother- just get out.” 

 

“He’s  _ not _ my boyfriend.” Baz repeated. “And this is the living room, you can’t kick me out. It’s a family space.” 

 

“If you’re just going to sit there pining for Simon you should leave.” Mordelia said stubbornly. “No one needs to see that.” 

 

“I don’t pine.” Baz said- and his infuriating little sister rolled her eyes. 

 

“If this,” She gestured to Baz. “Isn’t pining- I don’t know what is.” 

 

“I hate you.” Baz said- and she grinned, unaffected by her brothers annoyance. 

 

“Love you too.” 

 

“Whatever,” Baz said. “I’m going to go call Simon.” 

 

“Have fun with your boyfriend!” Mordelia called over her shoulder- watching as Baz turned to leave the living room. 

 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Baz said- again, for the fourth time that night. But he wished it wasn’t true. 

 

….

  
  


When Simon finally got back for New Year’s, Baz nearly imploded. He got a haircut while he was in London- Simon got a  _ haircut.  _ If he his friend was good looking before- Baz didn’t know what he was now. The curls that had always fallen into his eyes and onto his cheeks had been shorn short. Not entirely, though, they were just buzzed on the back and his sides- the front was still a loose, messy thatch of curls. 

 

It looked good- and Baz felt a tugging sensation in his stomach when Simon grinned at him from the train platform. (Baz wanted to come pick him up- he’d be damned if he didn’t get to see his friend the day he got back)

 

“You cut your hair.” Was all Baz could say- and Simon rolled his eyes. 

 

“Yeah, I know.” He paused. “What do you think?” 

 

“Hmm?” Baz said- he’d been staring at Simon, not really listening to what his friend was saying. It was hard to pay attention to the actual conversation topic when he just wanted to run his hands through Simon’s hair. Or kiss one of the three moles on his right cheek. Or to lace their fingers together like they used to when they were kids. “What did you say?” 

 

“I asked what you thought about my haircut,” Simon said, cocking an eyebrow. “It’s not that bad, is it?” 

 

“ _ No, _ ” Baz said quickly. “It’s good, it looks..” He didn’t quite know what to say because it looked really, really attractive- but he couldn’t just say that. “It looks nice.” 

 

“Mhhmm,” Simon replied. “Thanks, nerd.” 

 

“I missed you.” Baz admitted, and Simon smiled teasingly. 

 

“Awe, did Basilton miss his bestie?” 

 

Baz rolled his eyes, and gave Simon a playful shove. “Yes,  _ asshat _ . I missed you.” 

 

“Charming,” Simon replied- unaffected. “I missed you too.” And then he turned, walking sideways through their tiny train station, deftly avoiding any other pedestrians. “So what exactly are we doing for New Years?” 

 

_ We _ \- Simon said, like it was unquestionable that they would be together that night. Baz hoped they would be, but with Simon’s father you never knew. “Well,” Baz said. “My family’s throwing a big party- My dad’s inviting all our old family friends so there’ll be other kids there too, but..” He trailed off. “No one else is going to sleep over, assuming you want to.” 

 

“Of course I want to,” Simon said. “It’s going to be a blast.” 

 

“Mhmm.” Baz agreed, holding open the door as Simon stepped into the parking lot. 

 

“Wait,” The other boy said. “Fuck. I forgot to call my dad”

 

“You can come back with me,” Baz said quickly. He didn’t want Simon to go this quickly. “I rode my bike.”

 

“Exactly,” Simon said. “It isn’t a tandem bike- I can’t go home with you.” 

 

“You could ride on the handlebars.” Baz said, stupidly, stubbornly. He didn’t want to Simon to go home just yet. For a moment the other boy opened his mouth- like he wanted to argue, but then he closed it- sighing. 

 

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” Simon said- and Baz grinned. 

 

“Probably.” 

….

 

Two days later, Simon went over to Baz’s house for the party. He knew they were supposed to dress nicely, but Simon wasn’t sure how nice. He ended up in a dress shirt- with a nice jumper and a red tie. Simon thought that he actually didn’t look that bad, for once. At least, he thought he looked good until he saw Baz. 

 

He wasn’t dressed in anything fancier than Simon, but he somehow managed to look more posh. Baz’s shirt wasn’t wrinkled, and his jumper didn’t have those weird little lumps on it from years of use. He just looked  _ good _ \- really good. And he wasn’t wearing his hair slicked back like he usually did for special occasions- but somehow it still didn’t look messy. Baz always managed to be so  _ perfect _ .

 

Really, Simon couldn’t think of a better word for Baz. Even though no one was  _ really  _ perfect, but it was the word he chose for Baz, because nothing else was quite right. His friend had issues like everyone else, but Simon couldn’t care less. When he looked at Baz- he only saw the countless good memories they had together. He only saw Baz laughing at a horrible pun, or shoving him onto the couch because “You haven’t seen the Lion King? That’s a tragedy. We’re watching it  _ right now. _ ” He only saw freshly baked scones and hands sticky from popsicles in the summertime. 

 

Baz was his best friend, and Simon was probably more than a little in love with him. 

 

“Hey loser,” Baz said to his friend, and Simon rolled his eyes. “Glad you could make it.” 

 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

 

“Mhmm.” Baz hummed out a response, pulling Simon through the doors of the Pitch’s manor. It wasn’t exactly the same as it had been when they were kids- the entire left half had been renovated- but it still felt familiar to let Baz drag him up the staircase. 

 

“What are we doing anyways?” 

 

“Anything but staying downstairs,” Baz replied. “They started playing backgammon and passing around champagne.” 

 

“Uhg,” Simon said. “How have you been able to deal with them for this long?” 

 

Baz had texted him at six, a picture of their living room- full of Malcom’s friends, with the caption ‘help me.’ Simon didn’t get there until eight, and Baz was obviously grateful for the company, and the excuse to leave behind his father’s co-workers and old classmates. 

 

“Well,” Baz said. “They might’ve been passing champagne around to  _ everyone _ .” 

 

“Oh.” Simon said, and then opened his mouth to say something else- but he didn’t know quite what to say. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to try champagne, but he also didn’t want to get in trouble for it. 

 

“It’s a holiday.” Baz said- noticing Simon’s expression. “You know how my dad is, he even let Mordelia have a glass.” 

 

“Really?” Simon said. “She’s  _ eleven _ .” 

 

“Well it wasn’t really a glass,” Baz said. “It was more like a sip- just a big sip, in a cup.” 

 

“Mhmm.” Simon said. “Your family is fucking weird.” 

 

“I know,” Baz said. “That’s what happens when the only normal one dies.” 

 

Simon flinched- his friend didn’t directly talk about his mother’s death very often. And no one ever called Natasha  _ dead _ \- they just said she passed away, or that she was gone- like she had left on holiday. No one ever acknowledged that she was pushing up daisies- least of all Baz. 

 

“So how much have you had?” Simon asked- avoiding the mention of Natasha. Baz shrugged, which was a very not-Baz thing to do. 

 

“I don’t know, a glass or two.” He gestured vaguely. “I actually don’t feel that different, just.. Lighter.” 

 

“Like how?” Simon pressed- and Baz sighed. 

 

“It’s sort of like..” The other boy trailed off, and Simon elbowed him. Baz glared, and finished his statement. “It’s like being tired and hyper at the same time.” 

 

“That doesn’t make any sense.” 

 

“Okay,” Baz said. “Do you remember that time we were both really sleep deprived on that field trip and we had espresso shots?” 

 

“Mhmm.” Simon said- watching as Baz continued on. 

 

“And we got sort of loopy because we were really tired, but the caffeine kept us awake and sort of giggly?” 

 

“Yeah,” Simon said. “I remember that.” 

 

“It’s like that,” Baz said. “But different.” 

 

“But different.” Simon echoed. “That helps me so much.” 

 

“Whatever,” Baz said. “It’s New Year’s eve, people always get smashed. That’s the New Year’s eve thing.” 

 

Simon couldn’t deny that- so he just shrugged. “Hey Baz,” he asked. “Weren’t the other kids supposed to come too?” 

 

Baz sighed. “Dev has the flu, and Niall didn’t want to come because Agatha cancelled- She has some sort of horse show tomorrow and  _ ‘needs her rest.’ _ ”- He said it using air quotes around Agatha’s statement. “I just think none of them wanted to hang out at creepy Pitch manor.” 

 

“Well,” Simon said. “At least you’ve got me.” 

 

“Yeah,” Baz said- throwing an arm around Simon’s shoulder. “But we have to get you caught up.” 

 

“Mhmm.” Simon agreed- more focused on the weight of his friend’s arm around his shoulder- and the scent of cedar and bergamot. 

 

“If I’m getting wasted,” Baz said. “I’m not doing it alone.” 

 

“That would be lame.” Simon agreed, and Baz nodded solemnly. 

 

“Very lame.” 

 

….

 

“What even is this?” Simon said- taking another sip of the drink Baz had handed to him. 

 

“Apple juice,” He said. “And rum.” 

“What’s the logic for that?” Simon asked. “Who see’s apple juice and thinks ‘ah yes, this would go well with rum’”

 

“Well it isn’t bad, is it?” Baz said- and when Simon shook his head, he smiled. Baz was smiling a lot, and Simon wondered if his cheeks hurt. 

 

“It’s not bad,” Simon admitted. “But I still want an explanation.” 

 

“My dad made a comment about how he wouldn’t miss that rum if it got used- and then he practically winked at me.” Baz said. “And the apple juice was just there.” 

 

“Sound logic.” Simon said- and Baz rolled his eyes. 

 

“Whatever, idiot.” And then he nodded towards the cup. “Peer pressure.” 

 

Simon laughed- and took another big sip of the drink. “I did say yes.” 

 

“Mmm,” Baz agreed. “I still feel bad whenever I tell you to drink.” 

 

“So you’re just going to say peer pressure every time you want me to catch up?” 

 

“Peer pressure.” Baz said- and Simon took another sip. 

 

“I’m taking that as a yes.” 

 

….

 

“I’m fucking tired,” Baz said- it was past midnight now- and after three very, very strong drinks- he and Simon had collapsed on the bed in his room. 

 

“Fucking.” Simon echoed. “That’s a weird word.” 

 

“Too young for that.” Baz said, and the other boy tilted his head. Simon felt fuzzy, and before when he tried to walk it felt a little like the world was tilting- but he managed to keep his balance. 

 

“Not really.” 

 

“ _ I’m  _ too young for that.” Baz said- quickly. “I don’t..” He didn’t even know how to finish his sentence, but Simon did it for him, which was a relief. Normally he was good with words, but the alcohol had dulled his senses, and slowed his brain. 

 

“I don’t want to,” Simon said. “I just know people our age that do that.” 

 

“Weird.” 

 

“I don’t know,” Simon said. “They’re all nice people so I can’t really say mean things. It’s their choice” 

 

“Hmm.” Baz said. “I haven’t even kissed anyone.” 

 

“Me either.” Simon said. “I’m a lip virgin.” 

 

“I’m an everything virgin.” Baz said- and Simon elbowed him in the ribs, lightly. 

 

“Not true,” Simon said. “Hand holding.” 

 

“Oh yeah,” Baz replied. “You have my hand holding virginity,” His voice was sarcastic- and he had to fight not to slur his words. “Congratulations.” 

 

“You took mine,” Simon said. “It’s fair.” 

 

Baz only let out an indignant huff in response. “It’s lame.” 

 

“What?” Simon said. 

 

“The kissing thing.” Baz said. “The  _ not  _ kissing thing, technically.” 

 

“Fifteen and never been kissed.” Simon said. “Isn’t there a song about that?” 

 

“I think that’s sixteen.” Baz corrected- and Simon sighed. 

 

“Whatever.” And then. “It’s New Year’s, isn’t kissing a thing on New Year’s?” 

 

“Kissing is a thing all the time.” Baz said, and Simon rolled his eyes. 

 

“But like, a special thing. Like the mistletoe thing but New Year’s.” 

“Yeah,” Baz said. “But that’s midnight, right?” He reached for his phone, but Simon grabbed his arm. 

 

“No, no, no, don’t check the time.” 

 

“ _ Why _ ?” Baz asked- Simon’s hand was still on his arm. 

 

“Because if we don’t check the time then hypothetically it could be midnight.”

 

“What?” Baz asked- and Simon sighed again. They were both doing that a lot, sighing and huffing- because they were too tired to giggle like they had been earlier. 

 

“You know how when we were kids, we’d pretend that if we didn’t look at the clock- I wouldn’t actually have to go home at five?” 

 

“Mhmm,” Baz replied- he felt to hazy to really know what Simon meant- so he asked. “But what do you mean.” 

 

“The kissing thing,” Simon blurted out. “We’ve never kissed anyone and if it’s a New Year’s thing we can just do it and then it doesn’t really count.” Baz stayed silent. Was he dreaming? He wanted to pinch himself, because he’d dreamt about kissing Simon multiple times- but never like this. “It can be a test run.” Simon continued hastily. “Like, just to try it.”

 

“Because it’s a New Year’s thing,” Baz said slowly. “And if we pretend it’s midnight it doesn’t count.” Simon nodded. If it was a dream it wouldn’t matter if he said yes. If it was real… Baz didn’t know what it meant if it was real, but it didn’t count, right? That was the whole point of it. It wouldn’t count as a real kiss. “Okay.” Baz said, and Simon looked taken aback. 

 

“What?” 

 

“I said okay, about the kissing thing.” 

 

“Oh,” Simon said- letting out a baited breath. “Okay. How do we?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Baz admitted. “But I think, I think I just…” 

 

“Kiss me?” Simon said, and Baz nodded. 

“Yeah,” Baz said. “I’m just going to-” But then Simon grabbed him by the fancy silk tie he was still wearing, and pressed their lips together. 

 

It was warm, and even though he knew first kisses weren’t meant to be open-mouthed, it happened. It was sort of hard to keep your mouth closed, when kissing, really- Baz realized. It was sort of hard to avoid another person’s tongue or teeth. Everything just sort of fell together and when their brains didn’t know what to do- their bodies filled in the gaps. 

 

Simon bit Baz’s lower lip- except it wasn’t really biting because biting was supposed to hurt. It was something softer and better, and when Baz pulled away he really, really hoped he’d remember the way Simon’s lips felt the next morning. 

 

Baz never got the things he hoped for, though. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> carly is mia at the moment so IM POSTING THIS THING. Y'ALL ARE WELCOME. come yell at me on tumblr at e-li-za.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz are best friends forever.

**_SIXTEEN YEARS OLD:_ **

 

“Simon?”

 

“ _Shhhh_.” He put a hand over his friend’s mouth. “I’m here, nerdlet. Let’s go.”

 

Baz swatted Simon’s hand away- and sent a glare through the darkness. “You’re the one that needs to be quiet.”

 

“Mhm.” Simon hummed. “Come on, we don’t want to get caught, do we?”

 

“Uhg,” Baz rolled his eyes, and took Simon’s hand as the other boy took the short jump from his first-floor window to the ground. “Whatever.”

 

“This was your idea.” Simon pointed out. He still hadn’t pulled his hand away from Baz, and it felt like tiny volts of electricity were coursing through his fingertips. They hadn’t held hands like this since they were little kids- and although neither boy wanted to pull away- Baz let his hand fall from Simon’s grasp.

 

 _He doesn’t like me like that._ Baz reminded himself. _He’s never going to like me like that._ Neither of them could remember their New Year’s kiss now, the memory was made and then faded by alcohol and sleep until it wasn’t a memory at all. It was a whisper of a memory- a dream, really. At least that’s what Baz thought it was. _Just a dream_.

 

Simon thought the same thing too, but he couldn’t exactly walk up to Baz and say “ _Hey, did you have an extremely vivid dream about kissing me? Because I had one about kissing you! Was it real or not_?”- that was bound to end in flames. He just did his best to ignore the dream when it popped into his head, and continued on in life.

 

Nights like this felt like a dream, too. Just him and Baz against the world- it was spring now, and the night air was muggy and humid. They were sneaking out- but not to go to a party or anything, they wanted to go to the twenty-four hour diner in town. Well, really, _Baz_ wanted to go- and Simon would do practically anything if Baz asked him to.

 

Simon’s phone buzzed, and he rolled over in his bed- letting out a groan before he picked up his phone. The bright light from his screen was nearly blinding in the darkness, and he had to squint so it didn’t hurt his eyes. [Baz: _i’m hungry_ ]

 

[Simon: _it’s like one, baz_ ]

 

It didn’t even take a minute for his friend to respond. [Baz: _but i’m hungry_ ]

 

[Simon: _ur starting to sound like me, nerd]_

 

[Baz: _can we go get food_ ]

 

[Simon: _where??? i already said it’s like one_ ]

 

[Baz: _isn’t that american themed diner open 24 hours_ ]

 

Simon rolled over in his bed, holding his phone a little tighter. [Simon: _oh god_ ]

 

[Simon: _don’t tell me you want to go get waffles right now]_

 

[Baz: _...._ ]

 

His phone buzzed [Baz: _i want to go get waffles right now_ ]

 

[Simon: _baz.. ur the worst.._ ] But he groaned- and sat up, turning on the light and shuffling around the room quietly. Simon probably didn’t even need to be all that quiet- because his dad never seemed to notice even when he was blaring music. It was a little ridiculous.

 

[Baz: _please_ ]

 

[Baz: _i’ll pay_ ]

 

Simon ignored the incessant buzzing as he pulled on a pair of jeans- not bothering to change out of the torn t-shirt he wore to sleep. It was just Baz, so it didn’t make a difference whether his clothing was nice or not. Baz had seen him at his worst, and at his best.

 

[Baz: _i’ll even get extra scones_ ]

 

[Baz: _please simon it’ll be fun_ ]

 

[Baz: _simon?_ ]

 

Simon rolled his eyes, and picked up his phone to text back his friend. [Simon: _i was putting on my jacket_ ]

 

[Simon: _idiot_ ]

 

[Simon: _so when are you going to come get me?_ ]

 

….

 

Baz poured maple syrup over his waffle, and Simon watched dazedly- his chin propped up against one hand. They ordered iced coffee (french vanilla for Simon, and hazelnut for Baz) but it didn’t do anything to repress his sleepiness. Even though Simon was wearing jeans- his sleep-bleary eyes and mussed hair made him look like he’d just rolled out of bed.

 

It looked good on Simon- _everything_ looked good on Simon, unfairly enough. Whether he was wearing their school uniform or a pair of cut-off’s and a tank top, he looked beautiful. Really, _beautiful_ . ‘ _Cute_ ’ wasn’t the right word for Simon, and neither was ‘ _hot’_. (Although, maybe he was that, too, sometimes.) Over the spring, he’d changed. He wasn’t as smooth and soft anymore, Simon was more solid and lithe. He always looked like he was in the light of a sunset- all fine angles and warm colors.

 

It was torturous- and Baz hadn’t even noticed it until recently. It was when Simon came over a few weeks ago- right after swim team, and changed shirts with blatant disregard for Baz’s comfort. That’s when he noticed the way Simon’s muscles shifted- and the fact that a light spray of freckles had appeared over his shoulders where there hadn’t been any before. _When had that happened?_ Baz wondered. It wasn’t warm enough for them to really spend much time outside yet this year, so they must’ve been leftovers from last summer. _When had Simon gotten like this?_ Taller, and more compact. He’d never been chubby, not even close- but he’d never been muscled like this either. Or maybe Simon had- and Baz had just never noticed.

 

It was a startling and distracting change- and moments like this it was even harder to ignore. Baz thought about leaning across the table and kissing Simon. His lips would probably taste like coffee and maple syrup- or vanilla. His lips would probably taste _good._ He nearly had to shake himself to stop thinking about it. Simon was just staring- and Baz knew it was because the other boy was half asleep- but it still felt odd to have Simon watching him unguardedly. He couldn’t imagine just _staring_ like that- for as long as he wanted. Baz was used to quick glances and turning his head away before Simon could catch the rosy tint to his cheeks.

 

“How’s your coffee?” Baz asked, taking another bite of his waffles. Simon had eaten his own in less than five minutes- which was unsurprising, considering the fact that he ate like a half-starved animal most of the time.

 

“Mm?” Simon hummed sleepily, his eyes lighting up, and suddenly flicking higher on Baz’s face. “What d’you say?”

 

“Coffee.” Baz repeated. “How is it.”

 

“Oh,” Simon said- like he’d forgotten it. The cup was cold enough in the spring air that condensation slid down it when he picked the glass up to take a sip. “‘S fine.”

 

“Are you okay?” Baz replied- and Simon nodded slowly- eyes drooping with sleep.

 

“Just tired.”

 

“Sorry.” Baz said guiltily- he almost winced. This had been his idea, after all- and now Simon was half asleep on the diner’s table.

 

“No, it’s fun.” Simon replied. “I like spending time with you- just us.”

 

“We do stuff like this all the time,” Baz said- and the other boy opened his mouth to protest but Baz kept talking. “Okay maybe not stuff like _this_ \- but we hang out almost every day at the library.”

 

“But the girls are there,” Simon said. “That doesn’t count.” Baz rolled his eyes, and the other boy kicked him under the table.

 

“Ow!” The waitress walking past gave the two boys a stern look- and Simon smiled politely. Baz narrowed his eyes- because of course he managed to be both charming and annoying in under a minute.

 

As soon as she was gone- Baz turned his gaze back to Simon. “What’s wrong with Penelope and Agatha?”

 

“ _Nothing_.” Simon shook his head. “You’re not listening- I’m just saying we don’t get to hang out as much as we used to, because you’re taking all those advanced classes and I’m doing swim team.”

 

“That’s true.” Baz admitted. “But why doesn’t library time count?”

 

“Because it’s not _just_ us-” Simon said. “It’s not ‘ _Simon and Baz against the world!’_ , it’s ‘ _Simon and Baz and Agatha and Penny- study buddies until the end of time!’_ ” He said their names like they were super heroes- teasing and talking with his hands, loosely because of how tired he was. “Plus, Penny and Agatha like to say that they’re third wheeling us.”

 

“We’re not even dating.” _And you don’t even like me._ Baz thought. _You’re never going to like me._

 

“I know.” Simon said- and then muttering under his breath. “ _Weird._ ”

 

“Them or us?” Baz asked- an anxious pang in his stomach. He knew he and Simon were never actually going to fall in love and ride off into the sunset together. It’s just not how life works, but he didn’t want to hear Simon (the boy he was head over heels in love with) saying that the idea of them dating would be weird.

 

“Them,” Simon said. “Obviously- girls are weird. And I think _we’re_ the third wheels there…” He paused. “Have you seen the way Agatha’s been looking at Penelope? I swear those two… _pining._ ”

 

Simon was shaking his head, and all Baz could do was watch, and think about how christmas of last year- his little sister had said the same thing to him. _“You’re pining, Baz.”_

 

“You see it too, right?” Simon asked. “I’m not going crazy by thinking that they have some sort of weird romantic tension?”

 

Baz tilted his head. “Mmm... Only a little.”

 

“Oh thank god.” Was Simon’s dramatic response. “How much do you want to bet they start dating over the summer?”

 

“Five pounds.” Baz said, even though he felt bad betting on his friend’s romantic lives. He’d gone to school with Agatha and Penelope since they were kids, and although they’d never been unfriendly- they hadn’t been close either. It felt a little weird to be making bets on them- and Simon noticed the guilty crease in Baz’s brow.

 

“They’re betting on us, too, you know.”

 

Baz almost spit out his coffee. “ _What?_ ”

 

“Mhmm.” Simon said. “I overheard them talking about it. Penelope bet Agatha ten pounds that we’d make out in a closet somewhere by the time school gets out.”

 

Despite his internal panic, Baz snorted. “A closet.”

 

“I know,” Simon said- smiling sleepily. “It’s ironic.”

 

…

 

“Happy birthday, Simon.” Baz said- and he nearly stroked his computer screen- but then he didn’t because that would be creepy. He hated it- he hated that they were separated for Simon’s birthday- and he knew Simon hated it too.

 

“Sixteen years old,” Simon said dejectedly. It was midnight, and he and Baz were skyping- he wanted to be the first one to say happy birthday. “Whoop-de-fucking-do”

 

“Oh come on,” Baz said. “It can’t be that bad- it’s your birthday.”

 

“I know.” Simon said- sighing and rolling over on his side- pulling the laptop with him.

 

“Then why are you so-” Baz gestured vaguely. “Like this.”

 

“Like what?” Simon was pouting- Baz sort of hated when Simon pouted, because he stuck his bottom lip out and then Baz just wanted to kiss it, and tease it between his teeth. At least they weren’t in the same place- it would’ve been even worse. Moments where Simon looked irresistibly good were the only reason Baz didn’t curse their distance.

 

“This.” Baz said, flicking his fingers at the laptop screen where Simon could see them. “All pouty and sad.”

 

“I’m not,” Simon pouted. “I’m not pouty and sad.”

 

Baz raised an eyebrow. “What’s so bad about birthdays anyways? You’ve always hated them.”

 

“I don’t hate birthdays,” Simon said defensively. “I love _your_ birthday.”

 

“Why do you love it so much, anyways?” Baz said. “It’s weird.”

 

“Mmm.” Simon had pushed his face into a pillow. “I like having an excuse to buy you gifts.”

 

Baz froze- he didn’t really know what that was supposed to mean.“Really?” And then. “ _Why?_ ’

 

“‘Cause you’re my best friend,” Simon replied, like Baz was being stupid. “And you always make this surprised happy face when I give you stuff, and I like to see you happy.”

 

“Oh.” Was all Baz could say.

 

“Yeah,” Simon replied. “ _Idiot_.”

 

“I thought I was a nerd.”

 

“You’re an idiot too.” Simon said- and shifted again, lying with his chin propped against his arms. “But mostly just a nerd.”

 

“Uhg,” Baz said. “Whatever- and you’re avoiding the subject.”

 

“What subject.” Simon replied innocently. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Birthdays,” Baz said. “And why you hate them.” Simon deigned only an “Uhg.” In response to Baz’s prodding. “ _Come on_ , ‘Si. You know you can tell me anything, even your irrational hatred of birthdays.”

 

There was a long stretch of silence before either boy spoke again.“It’s just my parents.” Simon finally said- and Baz raised an eyebrow in cool curiosity. “They keep on _doing stuff_. Like, buying me gifts and taking me to the cinema”

 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Baz asked. “Doesn’t that mean they care?”

 

“It’s just weird,” Simon said. “They never seem to really care unless it’s about beating each other.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I’m just…” Simon trailed off. “I’m not even a person to them, Baz. I’m just something else to fight over.” He was silent for a moment. “It’s always ‘ _who get’s Simon over the holidays_ ’ and ‘ _you weren’t supposed to get him that- because I was getting him that_.’”

 

“I don’t understand.” Baz said. “Why are you complaining? You’re getting two birthdays and two christmases, shouldn’t you enjoy it?”

 

“Because they don’t fucking care about _me_.” Simon said- and suddenly his voice was venomous thorough Baz’s headphones. “They only care about who’s winning. Everything’s a fight with them- and even if they’re fighting over me it’s not because they care. It’s because they get a chance to duke it out one more time. They use me as an excuse to scream at each other about why their marriage failed.”

 

“Simon,” Baz said softly. “They love you.”

 

“God, Baz,” Simon laughed- it was an ugly sound, too bitter and harsh to come from his mouth. Simon was made for sweet sounds, singing and laughing, but not like this- not like the laugh was an act of self defence.“I wish that was what it was about. I wish they were fighting because they loved me and cared about me, but that’s just not it.”

 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Baz said it quietly- everything about him was quiet now, because he didn’t want to upset Simon anymore.

 

“You wouldn’t,” Simon said. “Your mum loved you more than anything else in the world.” The mention of Natasha was enough to make Baz flinch- but he knew Simon was right. His mother would’ve done anything to protect him, would’ve done anything to make sure he knew that he was loved. She was a real mother- not the way Lucy was. Baz knew Lucy was plenty nice, but she never seemed to care what her son said. Her automatic response to anything he said was: ‘That’s nice, dear.’ - in an absent voice, like her thoughts were somewhere else.

 

“Simon…” Baz said- because he didn’t know what else he was supposed to say. He knew his friend was right- because Simon’s parents really _didn’t_ care- but it wasn’t comforting to tell him what he already knew.

 

“It’s fine,” Simon said- and when Baz frowned he continued. “No, really it’s fine. I’d just like to believe that was what it’s all about- even if it’s not.”

 

“About what?” Baz asked- watching his friend closely. Simon sighed, and gave a bitter smile.

 

“I’d like to believe- No” he paused. “I’d _love_ to believe it was all about love for a child,” He turned to look at his friend- and even over the fuzzy skype call- Baz could tell Simon was about to cry. “But it’s not. And it never will be.”

 

….

 

“Baz,” Simon called from the water. “Stop being lame and come swim with me.”

 

Baz rolled his eyes. “Reading isn't lame.” But he knew that sitting under an umbrella refusing to move _was_ lame- and that was his preferred activity at the moment. Simon had invited Baz to come to his community pool on a weekend, when he didn’t have a meet and he could just swim for fun. And of course, because Baz couldn’t say no to Simon, he was here in the hot sun, reading a book he didn’t even like.

 

He knew how to swim of course, but he didn’t want to swim with Simon. Baz didn’t know if he could handle it- because Simon was very, very shirtless and very, very attractive. It was fine now- when he was sitting far away and he couldn’t count all the moles scattered across his friend’s back. If he was closer though… well, Baz’s self restraint was wearing thin. He wondered if Simon would taste like chlorine.

 

“Baz,” Simon replied. “Just come in- I can tell you’re hot.” Baz raised an eyebrow in response to Simon’s question- and his friend flushed. “Not like that, _idiot_ , you’re basically shimmering with sweat.”

 

“Hmm.” Baz said. “Sweat doesn’t sparkle.”

 

“Unless you’re a twilight vampire,” Simon said. “Or like, a fairy or something.”

 

“And I’m the idiot.”

 

“Shut up,” Simon replied, rolling his eyes. “Come swim with me or I’ll steal your book.” He looked at the paperback in Baz’s hands and wrinkled his nose. “What are you even reading?”

 

Baz shrugged, looking down at the cover. He hadn’t even payed attention to what it was- he just grabbed the first book he saw. It turned out to be one of his sister’s young adult dystopian novels, and although there was nothing wrong with those- Baz had grown bored of the trope. He’d already spent half an hour pretending to read it while sneaking glances at Simon.

 

“Well if you can’t even tell me what you're reading,” Simon said. “You should come in.”

 

“No thanks.” Baz smiled, looking up at his friend for a moment before continuing to ‘read’ his book. Taking that moment to look at Simon was enough to decide he really wasn’t going to get in that pool. Simon’s skin was tawny and wet and Baz felt his cheeks flush stupidly.

 

“Uhg, come _on_ , Baz.” Simon was whining now- hanging off the edge of the pool, close enough that he could grab Baz’s ankle and tug. (Which he did, insistently.)

 

“Jesus, ‘Si,” Baz huffed, slamming his book down. “What's it going to take for you to leave me alone?”

 

“You have to get in the pool.”

 

Baz rolled his eyes at his friend- who was being ridiculously stubborn. “ _Fine,_ ” he conceded- standing and walking over to Simon. “But I’m not actually swimming, I’ll just sit on the edge over here and put my feet in- because then I’m technically in the pool.”

 

Simon let out another noise of frustration. “‘S not what I meant, I wanted you to _actually_ come swim with me.”

 

“Mm,” Baz teased in response, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine on his skin. “You should’ve been more specific, then.”

 

“I hate you.” Simon scowled, entirely teasing- and then he slipped under the water again. Baz could still see him, just not easily. His friend’s shape was distorted in the water, and the only things he could really see were flashes of freckled skin and golden hair, which had darkened to a bronze color in the water.

 

He was a good swimmer, which wasn’t a surprise- he’d been in and out of this pool for four years already. It was still a shock for Baz though, to see him slicing through the water like he belonged there. The way Simon moved was beautiful, really. He was more like a dancer than an athlete, considering the amount of grace he swam with. Baz was scowling now- was there anything Simon did that wasn’t attractive?

 

As soon as he wondered that, he remembered that Simon ate like a wild dog most of the time- which definitely wasn’t his most attractive habit. There were _some_ things Baz wasn't particularly charmed by, at least, even if they didn't particularly bother him either.

 

He sighed, rubbing his eyes to block out the bright summer sun. The more he thought about Simon the more he realized he was infinitely fucked. You’re not supposed to fall in love with your best friend- but he had. Baz had fallen in love- and he had been falling in love since he was eight years old. Now, almost nine years later he knew he was done for. He knew Simon would never like him back- let alone love him. Knowing that didn't change how Baz felt, though, and sometimes the suffocating want to be something _more_ ached in his chest.

 

Simon came back from the far end of the pool, and came up breathing heavy- resting his arms on the paved side of the pool. “I lied,” he said- and his breath was ragged because he’d held it for so long. Baz tilted his head, one eyebrow raised in question. “I don’t hate you.”

 

He’d forgotten his friend’s earlier statement, and opened his mouth to give a sarcastic response- but then Simon grabbed him by the arms and pulled. Baz was under the water in one second, and then above and spluttering the next.”

 

“ _Simon!_ ” He said. “I don’t want to go swimming!”

 

“Oops.” Simon was grinning, looking all too pleased with himself, still holding onto Baz’s wrists.

 

Baz scowled at his best friend. “I don’t even like you.”

 

“No,” Simon said, confidently- knowing his statement would be correct, even if it wasn't in the way he wanted it to be. “You love me.”

 

Baz didn’t even try to deny it- he just shoved Simon’s head under the water.

 

….

 

They were in Baz’s room. They were in Baz’s room- _kissing_ , they had been for the past hour. Simon had gotten pushed back against the headboard, and normally he thought he wouldn’t want to be pinned by anyone but it was _Baz._ It was Baz holding his arms and kissing down his neck, sucking a hickey in the hollow of Simon’s throat. It was Baz with his hands and teeth and lips- straddling him and pushing Simon with his mouth.

 

It was dizzying- Simon couldn’t think, and he couldn’t help the breathless sound he made when Baz pressed in closer, rolling their hips together. It felt like it felt like there was a firework lit deep in the pit of his stomach, casting sparks that burned and hissed like the air through his teeth.

 

“I can’t-” Simon managed, trying not to sound as breathless as he felt. “Think.”

 

Baz leaned away- and Simon’s skin suddenly felt cool in the absence of his lips. “I want to kiss you.” Baz stated it so simply, with a smile like he was teasing. Maybe he _was_ teasing- it sort of felt like he was. He didn’t look shy when he said it, though- he looked serious. Baz looked like he meant it- like he actually wanted Simon, and wanted to be kissing Simon. There was a question in his eyes, though- _yes or no?_ \- and Simon had to answer him.

 

“I’m-” Simon still couldn’t think, it was almost worse now that they weren’t touching, because then it was all he could think about. All he could think about were Baz’s lips against his skin. “I’m- I mean, _yes_.”

 

And then Baz was back again, forging a path of open-mouthed kisses up Simon’s neck to the place where his pulse was thundering. Simon couldn’t think- he couldn’t feel either, at least nothing but warmth and sparks and the gentle scrape of teeth against his skin. He felt dizzy. He felt like he’d been set on fire. He felt like Baz was taking him apart with his mouth. He felt-

 

And then he woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> carly is mia at the moment so IM POSTING THIS THING. Y'ALL ARE WELCOME. come yell at me on tumblr at e-li-za.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz are best friends forever.

**_SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD:_ **

 

2:03 AM, one message. [baz:  _ simon? are you there _ ]

 

2:15 AM, two messages, one missed call. [baz:  _ please just text me back. i really need to know that you’re okay right now. _ ]

 

2:17 AM, three messages, two missed calls [baz:  _ please, simon, i know you’re awake _ ]

 

2:56 AM, four messages, five missed calls. [baz:  _ your light is on. let me in. _ ]

 

Simon did. He pushed open his window, and looked down to see Baz, wearing at least three layers of clothing and a warm looking knit cap. His breath was clouding in the cold night- and Simon didn’t even care that his arms were getting cold in the February air as he leaned halfway out the window to help his friend inside. 

 

“What are you doing here?” 

 

“Penelope told me you had a breakdown earlier.” Baz’s hands were cold as he reached out to touch Simon- to make sure he was alright, physically at least. “But she didn’t tell me until the end of the party.”

 

“I left early.” Simon said- and even though Baz’s fingertips felt like ice, it was still an effort to pull himself away, leaning back on the bed. 

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

 

_ Because you were talking to that tall boy with dark hair and fitted jeans _ \- Simon thought. But it came out differently. “Because I didn’t want to bother you.” 

 

“Simon,” Baz said- half muffled because he was pulling one of his three jumpers over his head. “You know you could never bother me.” 

 

“Yeah, but you were busy.” It was dumb of him to be jealous, Baz wasn’t even his boyfriend. Still, Simon was sick with missing a pair of arms he’d never even been privileged enough to know. 

 

Baz cocked his head,  an oddly graceful and bird-like gesture. “What are you talking about?” 

 

“Nothing,” Simon said, and closed his eyes, slinging an arm across his face so he didn’t have to see the glare of the ceiling lights through his eyelids. “Never mind.” 

 

“Will you at least tell me what happened at the party? Penelope said she found you crying in the bathroom, and that you were trying to cut your hair…” 

 

“I wasn’t crying,” Simon grumbled, and he felt the bed dip as Baz sat down beside him. 

 

“But were you trying to cut your hair?” 

 

“It’s just hair,” Simon replied. “It grows back.” 

 

“What happened?” Simon felt Baz’s leg pressing against his own- the universal sign for ‘ _ move over, so I can lie down too _ .’ “Did something happen with your parents?”

 

“For once, it's not about them.” Simon rolled over on his bed, making room for Baz to lie down next to him. 

 

“So what  _ is  _ it about?” 

 

“I don’t even know.” Simon said- which was a lie, but telling Baz he was panicking about his future (or lack, thereof) wasn’t going to help anything. “School is just stressing me out.” 

 

“Yeah, but didn’t you already do early decision?” - Baz was referring to their University choices. Simon got into a college in London he’d been interested in, with early decision, so he could spend the rest of high school in peace, as long as he kept a B average. It would’ve been  idiotic to say no to a deal like that, he even had a scholarship- so of course, he’d told the University that he would be attending come fall. 

 

That had been back in November though, and now he wasn’t so sure. Did he actually want to be an english major? Did he actually want to move away from hampshire with its green fields and misty mornings? Did he want to trade early morning bike rides for tube rides instead? Did he want to leave his home behind? Did he want to leave  _ Baz  _ behind? 

 

Simon thought he wanted to, but now, with the school year coming to a close (well, not quite a close, it was only february) he wasn’t sure anymore. If he went, that meant he only had this spring, and this summer to spend at home. When he thought about hampshire, he thought about growing up. He thought about being a kid, and exploring in the creek down the road from Baz’s house. He thought about christmas parties where they snuck glasses of champagne. He thought about Baz, really. When he thought about home, it was just Baz. 

 

When he wanted to stay in hampshire, it was really wanting to stay with Baz. They’d never been separated before, and he got into cambridge (and said yes, of course. It was cambridge- who wouldn’t say yes?) which was farther away from London than Simon would’ve liked. He knew that this would happen one day, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. He didn’t have to like knowing that Baz would go away to a posh school, and make posh friends, and forget all about Simon. 

 

Baz elbowed Simon in the ribs, gently. “Seriously, ‘Si what is this about?” 

 

“Nothing.” Simon said, and honestly he felt a little like crying. He was going to miss this  _ so _ much. Late nights where it was just the two of them. Sharing headphones on the trolley downtown, listening to the griswolds. (Baz always smacked Simon when he started lip-syncing.) He was going to miss the study sessions with Penelope and Agatha. He was going to miss getting coffee that was too expensive, and sitting in the sunshine in the park. He was going to miss  _ everything _ . He was going to miss Baz. (He was going to miss Baz so much.)

 

“Simon…” Baz said, which meant he knew he was lying- it obviously wasn’t nothing. Simon could feel Baz next to him, still somehow radiating body heat even though he’d been out in the cold before Simon let him in. It was moments like this, where he really just wanted Baz to shut up and stop asking so many questions, where Simon almost kissed him. It was mostly just because he always wanted to kiss Baz, but it was also the fact that if he kissed the other boy, he would at least stop asking what was wrong. 

 

Instead of kissing Baz, he just let out a sigh. “Yeah?” 

 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Baz sounded concerned, and Simon almost laughed, because really, he wasn’t hiding anything from Baz, aside from the fact that he was completely in love with him- and it was ruining his life. 

 

“Nothing,” Simon said- and it was half a yawn. “Seriously, Baz. You worry too much.” 

 

“Are you tired?” Baz said, and Simon nodded. “Do you want me to leave?” 

 

“You can stay,” Simon said- trying to sound casual. “If you want.”   _ Please stay.  _ That’s what he was really thinking.  _ Don’t leave me yet.  _ Simon knew Baz was going to leave one day. One morning, he would climb out Simon’s window like he always did, and he would never come back.  _ Just stay for now _ \- Simon thought.  _ Stay with me.  _

 

“Mm,” Baz said- and he sounded just as tired as Simon felt. “Goodnight then.” 

 

He had to hold back his smile, just incase his friend was watching.“Night, Baz.” 

 

….

 

Baz was at a swim meet- which wasn’t  _ really  _ his idea of fun, but at least he got to see Simon without a shirt on. Which was sort of torture so maybe he shouldn't've been looking forwards to it. (He was anyways.) The room smelled like chlorine, and the yelling of coaches to athletes, children’s laughter in the crowd- all the sounds of the pool were bouncing off the tiled walls. The whole thing was tiled, with high ceilings made of glass. Apparently that was less expensive than a normal ceiling with huge lights- and less of a hazard in the off chance that something did come crashing down into the pool. 

 

Simon told him that someone fancy and important had donated a couple years back, and that’s why the swim club was as nice as it was. Baz didn’t really care that much, but he nodded and smiled and laughed at all the appropriate moments, because it was Simon and he’d probably set himself on fire if Simon asked him to. (Sometimes Baz thought he’d set himself on fire anyways.) 

 

He was supremely bored, the meet hadn’t started yet, and he hadn’t caught sight of Simon in the crowd of blue and white jacketed swimmers huddled in a circle- the colors of Simon’s team. So he was scrolling through buzzfeed on his phone, and responding to texts from Agatha and Penelope who were indeed, finally dating after a year and a half of longing glances. Their groupchat was mostly intellectual conversations, at least right now when Simon was busy. If he was around, he would’ve found some meme to insert into the conversation- and then Penelope would try and tell him off, but he’d just send  _ more _ . 

 

Sometimes Baz wondered why, exactly, he was head over heels for that idiot. Agatha and Penelope sometimes got a little sappy in the chat too, but at least they weren’t staring lovingly at each other (which they did sometimes.) Baz hoped he didn’t look like that when he looked at Simon, but he knew he probably did. He was probably worse, considering how long he’d had a crush on Simon. Sometimes Penelope would kick him under the table in physics, because he’d just space out, staring at Simon- thinking about anything but thermodynamics. Baz would glare at her, but he knew she was just trying to help him. 

 

Simon wasn’t straight- they’d known that since they were fifteen, but that didn’t mean he would like Baz. So really, keeping the fact that he was hopelessly in love with Simon a secret wasn’t that bad. It was just self-preservation. He wasn’t looking forward to getting his heart ripped out, which would happen eventually- because someday he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from just admitting that he was in love. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from grabbing Simon and kissing him- once, just once, he wanted to kiss Simon. 

 

Thinking about it was making Baz mopey though, because he knew that if he did that it would be the end of them- or at least the end of their friendship. So he clicked on one more ridiculous quiz -  _ are you an introvert or just an asshole? _ But then someone blew a whistle, and he looked up to see the swimmers lining up for the 200 meter race- that was Simon’s section. He swam butterfly. Apparently it was the hardest stroke, but every time Baz saw him swimming, it looked easy. 

 

He watched- and it was awful once the whistle went off because Simon was swimming and he looked  _ good _ . He was just a blur in the water- and Baz kept on staring. Sometimes he was overwhelmed by how extremely gay he was, and most of those times- he was watching Simon. Baz was overwhelmed by it now, because the race was already over and Simon was climbing out of the pool in his tiny bathing suit (most swimmers wore speedos, or something like one, because apparently there’s less resistance that way, so you’re faster. Simon also shaved his legs. It was bad.) Even if he was wearing one of those ridiculous swimming caps, he still managed to look hot. Baz sort of wanted to die. Or push Simon against a wall and kiss him. It got even worse because he took  _ off  _ the stupid swimming cap, and the goggles that made him look bug-eyed. He just looked like Simon now. Simon in a speedo, dripping wet. 

 

God, Baz was fucked. And Simon was tall, and tanned, and when did he start to look like this? Baz, objectively, knew they were growing up- but sometimes it hit him so hard that they weren’t kids anymore. They were still young, but they weren’t  _ kids. _ Nothing was as simple as it used to be- not even crushes. When Baz was eight, all he wanted was to hold Simon’s hand- and it was okay, it was okay to want that. When he was twelve, he thought maybe he wanted to kiss Simon ( _ maybe _ \- kissing sounded weird.) Last year, when he was sixteen- he  _ really  _ wanted to kiss Simon, and curl his fingers through the other boy’s hair so bad it ached. And now… Baz wasn’t sure- Nothing had changed, really, except he wanted more. He wanted  _ everything  _ with Simon. He dreamt about it once, and when he woke up he hated himself because you’re not supposed to dream about your friends like that. You’re not supposed to  _ want  _ your friends like that. But Baz did- he wanted every kind of sleeping with Simon. 

 

Baz wanted  _ anything  _ with Simon. He wanted anything but Simon leaning over and resting his head against Baz’s shoulder and whispering “You’re my best friend.” He didn’t want to hear Simon say it again, he didn’t want that reminder that they were weren’t together. That they would never  _ be  _ together. That they were just friends, and it was all they’d ever be.

 

….

 

“Are you ready to go?” Baz’s voice rang out from behind Simon in the parking lot, and he turned, sending rivulets of water down the back of his neck. He’d just finished a swim meet, and Baz was giving him a ride home. 

 

Simon smiled. “Yeah, I just didn't know where you were.” He gestured to the thin, silver phone in his hand. “I was about to call you.” 

 

“I thought you were in the locker rooms.” Baz said. “So I looked for you there.” 

 

“Sorry.”

 

“You’re fine,” Baz replied easily. “But let's get out of here, I'm exhausted.”

 

“Agreed.” Simon slung his duffle bag over his shoulder, and walked towards Baz, the scent of chlorine clinging to his skin. The two boys walked to the car in a comfortable almost silence- the late night air was humming with humidity  and the familiar sounds of early-spring insects.

 

“You did really great.” Baz said suddenly, unlocking the car as Simon climbed in. It was an effort for the golden-haired boy to hide his smile- compliments from Baz made his face red and his heart beat that much faster. 

 

“Thanks, nerdlet.” Simon said, masking a fond grin. “I try my best.” 

 

Baz rolled his eyes, a halfway habit, and turned the key in the ignition, starting the car. “I mean it- you’re a really amazing athlete.” 

 

“Oh.” Now Simon really didn't know how to take the compliment, so he just smiled and shrugged before deftly changing the subject. “I guess- can we listen to the cd we made in the car?” 

 

“Mhmm.” Baz hummed, fussing with a few buttons on the car before a cd hummed to life, pulsing out vibrant synths and soft vocals- their favorite kind of music. 

 

“I’m so tired.” Simon said, slumping back in his seat. He was almost too tired to stop and appreciate Baz sitting behind the wheel, driving slowly through the warm night.  _ Almost.  _ The dark-haired boy was watching the road, and as they drove past street lamps, the light played off the fine angles of his face. Simon thought that in this night, with his hair pulled back out of his face- Baz was stark, and strange, and beautiful. 

 

It was an effort to keep still after that, despite his fatigue. Simon tapped his fingers along to the beat of the song nonchalantly, despite the fact that his sudden burst of energy was fueled by the passionate urge to  _ touch.  _ He just wanted to run his fingers through Baz's hair, or kiss the knuckles of his left hand, or feel the other boy’s ribcage rising and falling under his fingertips. 

 

Simon couldn’t have known it, but Baz was just as restless too. Seeing Simon at the swim meet had driven him up the wall, and Baz knew that if the other boy so much as touched his shoulder, his self control would crumble. He’d wanted to kiss Simon for almost five years- five years of watching and waiting and burning on the inside like  slowly igniting coals- and at this point he wasn't sure he wanted to wait anymore. 

 

Did he care if he changed everything? Did he care if it meant they couldn't be friends anymore? Did he care if he lost Simon? Yes- he knew that much. He wasn't willing to  _ lose  _ Simon. He wasn’t ready to let go of his best friend, at least not yet. With the promise of college looming in his future, Baz knew that the constant presence of Simon in his life would disappear- and he’d have to be alone. 

 

He never  _ wanted  _ to be alone, but after his mother died, he’d learned how to live with it to some extent. He hadn't had an option then, though, and for now- while he still had an option- he was going to hang onto Simon for as long as possible. Even if Baz was in love with the other boy, it didn't change the fact that they were best friends, and that they always wanted to be together if they could. He knew he was going to make a move before he left- he had to, Baz had wanted to feel Simon's lips against his own for far too long. 

 

He wanted to then- there in the car as the engine hummed. He could pull over and kiss Simon senseless- but now wasn't the time. They were both tired, and he was driving, and it was only April. He had until August before it was too late. Baz had until August to either snap out of it- which seemed highly unlikely at this point- or to make a move. Knowing this was the only thing that kept him from stopping at the end of Simon’s driveway that night to spill all the thoughts of his heart out through his mouth.

 

Knowing that was what made him walk Simon to the front step to say goodnight with a smile and a bumping of shoulders and a “love you,  _ dork _ .” Knowing that was what kept him from doing something stupid every time Simon bit his lip in class, trying to concentrate. Knowing that was what kept Baz awake at night - the promise of something and someday, as long as he could keep his courage. 

 

….

 

It was dark out when Simon’s phone buzzed and he almost ignored it, exhausted from a sweltering, May week of swim practice in the late afternoon. His muscles felt stretched, and his eyes were sore, but Simon picked up the phone anyways- recognizing Baz’s text chime (he’d saved a different one for Baz, so he’d always know if it was his best friend.)

 

8:15 pm [baz:  _ hey, are you free tonight _ ?]

 

Simon was usually free, he kept up with his schoolwork well and didn’t have too many extracurriculars to juggle- and he was certainly  _ always  _ free for Baz. Tonight though, he was tired, and he wasn’t sure he wanted Baz so close to him- close enough to make a stupid decision and ruin everything. (Close enough to touch…)

 

Simon stared at the message in his phone, head tilted, unsure of how to reply. Maybe skyping Baz would work but the connection was always shitty… He wasn’t even sure he wanted to talk to Baz tonight, which was unusual for him. He’d been avoiding his friend, to some extent, for the past few weeks. It wasn’t that Simon didn’t want to be around Baz- he  _ always _ wanted to be around Baz- it was just the fact that it  _ hurt. _

 

It hurt because Baz would be gone in a little over three months- leaving Simon behind, and these days every time they hung out his best friend managed to mention Cambridge, and how he had toured and how the campus was beautiful and Simon couldn’t help imagining Baz gallivanting across a lush, green campus with some beautiful boy that wasn’t  _ him. _

 

That’s why it hurt- and so Simon stared at his phone for a full five minutes, knowing full well that Baz knew he’d read the text- before responding.

 

8:20pm [simon:  _ i don’t know… _ ]

 

Now he was the one left waiting, seeing the small ‘read at 8:21’ notification from Baz’s end, drumming his fingertips against the window sill of his night-dark bedroom. Simon didn’t know if he’d be able to stay awake long enough to read Baz’s response, but he would try. Suddenly, his phone rang shrilly into the stillness of the night. He knew who it was before he even pressed accept on the call.

 

Simon picked up, and as soon as he heard his best friend’s voice over the phone, he felt some of the tension of the day melt off his shoulders.

 

“You alright, dork?” Baz said, and Simon sighed.

 

“Sort of.”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m just tired.”  _ And I miss you _ \- Simon thought.  _ Even though you aren’t gone yet. _

 

“Hmm,” Baz hummed in response. “Swim practice?”

 

“Yeah.” He’d never get over how Baz always managed to guess what was wrong, every time- even if swim team was only half of it. “I’m a wreck.”

 

“You’re always a wreck, Simon.” He could hear the teasing grin in Baz’s voice, and it brought out his own smile, tugging at the corners of his mouth. Simon was too tired to think straight- too tired to think at all. 

 

His heart spoke before his head could. “I miss you.” He said, and the silence on the other end of the line felt like a small eternity. Baz’s voice was small and hesitant when he responded.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“I just..” Simon started- and then he couldn’t explain it. “Never mind. I guess you’re just- you’re at violin practice a lot these days.” It was a lame excuse for his slip of tongue- his fatigue betraying him. He hoped Baz hadn’t figured him out yet- the idea of him knowing, and the inevitable rejection that would follow… It was almost nightmarish to Simon.

 

“Simon-” Baz began, but the other boy interrupted him.

 

“I’m tired, and I have another meet tomorrow.” The unspoken end to the sentence hung in the air ‘ _ so I have to go…’ _

 

_ “Simon _ .” Baz repeated it- but the golden-haired boy wasn’t having it. He’d already said too much. “We’ve barely talked at all tonight.”

 

“I’m tired.” Simon said. “I’m just tired. I need to go to sleep, Baz.”

 

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” His friend said, and Simon could hear his own breath hitch over the shitty phone connection.

 

“No. I’m just tired.” It was all he could seem to say.  _ I’m just tired Baz. I just want to sleep _ . It was a half truth- but Simon hoped his best friend would buy it. The full truth could ruin everything, and it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

 

“Okay..” Baz said finally- not sounding like he fully believed it, but Simon knew he was off the hook. “Go to bed, ‘Si.”

 

“Okay…” Simon replied. “Goodnight, Baz.”

 

“Yeah,” The other boy replied. “Goodnight.”

 

….

 

Simon and Baz didn’t fight- so Baz didn’t know if this classified as a fight or not. He and Simon weren’t clawing at each other or spitting poisonous words, but they weren’t smiling and laughing- happy together. They just weren’t  _ together _ \- Baz had a creeping suspicion that Simon had been avoiding him for the past few weeks, but he had no evidence other than his best friend’s absence at his side. 

 

He hadn’t really noticed at first, but then he realized that either Simon’s swim team schedule had changed, or he was avoiding Baz. Sadly, the latter seemed more likely. Simon had been drifting since May, from Penelope, Agatha, and even his best friend. It wasn’t odd for him to dedicate time to swimming, but it was odd for him to ignore calls and skip their study dates at the library. (Baz told Penny and Agatha he didn’t mind “ _ we don’t have much homework right now, anyways _ .”) But it ate at him like a cancer.

 

Had he done something? Had Simon figured him out- Had the other boy finally noticed the hunger in Baz’s gaze and withdrawn, disgusted? His questions could only be answered by Simon, and the absence of knowledge formed a gaping hole in him. Eventually, Baz knew, they were going to have to say goodbye- they left for Uni in two months- and he couldn’t imagine why Simon would waste any of the time they had remaining. He must’ve done something wrong- that was the only logical explanation. 

 

So he called Simon, and the phone rang, and then went straight to voicemail.  _ His phone is probably dead. _ Baz mused.  _ Or it’s turned off.  _ He sighed, and left a message anyways. He knew he was half the problem too, he’d been spending more time with Mordelia recently- she wanted to bond some before he left for University, and he’d been practicing the violin consistently too, for the first time since his mother had died. (He used to practice just for recitals, but now he felt like he could play without it being just for his mother. Like he could breathe again- but not just to stay alive.) Simon wasn’t entirely the one to blame for this disconnect. 

 

“Hey, if you’re not at swim practice tonight you should come over- we can watch a movie, or bake something or just..” Baz trailed off into the phone. “Hang out like the old times- like when we were kids.” He held back a sigh. “I haven’t seen you in a couple days, Simon, let’s just talk. Just come over to talk.” He stopped himself from saying  _ ‘I miss you’ _ , and instead said. “See you later, dork.” 

 

Simon didn’t call him back, but at about five thirty, after making a frozen pizza and scarfing it down with his little sister, Baz received a text. 

 

[simon:  _ i’m coming over _ ]

 

[baz:  _ have you eaten yet? _ ]

 

[simon:  _ nope, dad’s out of town _ ]

 

[baz:  _ Mordelia and I made pizza, do you want me to save you some? _ ]

 

[simon:  _ please _ ]

 

It was the most they’d said to each other in three days- besides goodnight and good morning messages (those never changed)- and Baz felt a surge of warmth. He missed Simon, and it had been such shit these past couple weeks- the other boy had been slipping through Baz’s fingers recently, and now he knew he’d have Simon right where he wanted him. (Well,  _ close  _ to where he wanted him.)

 

“Simon’s coming over.” Baz announced to Mordelia, who was doing her homework at the kitchen table. She raised her head for long enough to waggle her eyebrows suggestively at Baz, who rolled his eyes. “It’s not like that.” He said, leaning against the counter, even though he knew very well- that at least on his end- it was  _ just  _ like that.

 

“Sure.” She said. “And I  _ love  _ algebra.” She blew a strand of her night-dark hair out of her face, tilting her head at the schoolwork before her. She scowled and pushed it away. “I’m done for tonight.” 

 

“I thought you hated algebra.” Baz said, sitting down at the table next to his sister. 

 

“Exactly.” She replied- and he finally got her sarcasm. 

 

Baz let out a groan. “It’s not like that.” 

 

“Mhmm.” Mordelia replied sarcastically. “I’m supposed to go to June’s house, after dinner. She wants to show me this cartoon she found the other day.”

 

Baz squinted at his sister. “She’s your little ginger friend, right? The one who lives in town…. Do you want me to drive you?”

 

“I’m good,” Mordelia replied, slinging her heavily-laden backpack over one shoulder. He couldn’t believe how grown up she’d gotten- at thirteen she’d started to spend more time with her friends and less time holed up in her room. It was good for her, at least Baz thought so, so he didn’t protest when she walked out the door to bike over to her friend’s house. 

 

Like Simon’s father- his own father was out of town too, meaning he was alone. The house felt quiet and still with just Baz inside- it was too big normally, but now, by himself- the house sprawled and gaped as early evening light poured in through the kitchen windows. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, and as he waited another fifteen minutes for Simon to show up, the light changed from golden to orange. By the time the front door slammed shut with his best friends arrival, it had changed to another color- a dusky blue-purple. 

 

“Baz?” Simon yelled down the front hall, and the dark haired boy grinned at the sound of his friend’s voice.

 

“In here!” Baz called back, and a few short moments later, Simon peered into the kitchen, finding his friend sitting at the kitchen table, washed in grey light.

 

“Hey,” Simon said, the anxiety he’d felt melting away. He  _ had _ been anxious about seeing Baz- they hadn’t seen each other outside of school recently, so it felt both strange and familiar to be standing in his best friend’s kitchen. But it was  _ Baz _ , so he relaxed as soon as he saw the other boy’s face. “You should really turn on some lights in here, this place is giving me the creeps.” 

 

Baz shrugged. “I probably should, but i’m feeling sort of lazy.” There was a half-eaten pizza sitting on the counter- stuck to a well-used baking sheet. Simon helped himself to a slice before sitting down at the kitchen table with Baz. 

 

“So what’s up?” He asked, and Baz grimaced.

 

“I want to talk to you about something.”As quickly as his anxiety had disappeared, it materialized again, a black static humming in his fingertips and the pit of his stomach.

 

“What?” Simon said- still holding the greasy pizza in one hand. He put it down on the table- and then remembered his manners and put it on a napkin. 

 

“I know you’ve been avoiding me.” Baz said, and Simon felt his stomach lurch. “What I want to know is  _ why _ .”

 

“I haven’t.” It was a lie- an instant one he choked out in an attempt to save himself. “I was just at swim practice.” He added, trying to make it seem like the whole truth, instead of half of one.

 

“Simon,” Baz said. “I know you’re busy-”

 

The other boy interrupted him. “Exactly- I’m not avoiding you.” 

 

“But you  _ are _ , Simon.” 

 

Panic clawed it’s way up his throat. “I’m not.” 

 

“Simon.” Baz said- ever the reasonable one.

 

“Stop.” He pushed back his chair, standing from the table. “I don’t want to fight.” 

 

“It doesn’t have to be a fight,” Baz pressed. “If you’d stop  _ lying _ \- and tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.” 

 

“I haven’t” Simon insisted, even though he knew it wasn’t the truth. He could feel the fear boiling in his stomach- the fear of being found out, and the fear of losing again. His family had fallen apart years ago, but he still mourned the loss- he wasn’t about to lose Baz, too. 

 

“You  _ have,  _ Simon.” Frustration finally crept into his friend’s voice. “You didn’t even have swim practice yesterday afternoon, I went over to the club to surprise you and the parking lot was empty. You weren’t  _ there _ .” The implied end of the sentence hung in the air like a dark cloud.  _ You lied to me. _

 

“Baz.” Simon said- it was all he could think to say. He had no excuse this time, no clever lie to make sure his guilt lay undiscovered. 

 

“I don’t understand why, though.” The hurt in the dark haired boy’s voice was clear as day. “Did I do something  _ wrong _ ?”

 

“No-” Simon rushed out. “I just- fuck, Baz, I don’t…”

 

“You don’t  _ what _ , Simon.”

 

The frustration spilled over, and he snapped. “I don’t want to lose you!”

 

“What is  _ that  _ supposed to mean?” 

 

Simon left behind any sense of self-preservation he had- burned away by the frustration of his friend’s accusations. “It means I’m in love with you! I’ve been in love with you since I was  _ fourteen  _ and you’re about to go off to college and you’re going find some boy with pretty hair and you’re going to forget all about me and i’m going to be  _ alone,  _ and-”

 

Baz stood from the table, all wide eyes and parted lips- reaching for Simon. It took the golden-haired boy only a second to realize what he had confessed- and he stumbled back from where he stood by the table.

 

“I’m sorry-” Simon fumbled. “I didn’t mean it I’m such an idi-” 

 

Baz grabbed his forearms- and it felt like his hands were burning holes in the fabric of Simon’s long sleeved t-shirt where they touched. “Say it again.”

 

“What?” Simon was dumbfounded, but the dark haired boy just stared at him with wonder in his eyes.

 

“What you said before,” Baz clarified. “Say it again.

 

The other boy squeezed his arm gently, and Simon swallowed- he felt almost sick to his stomach. “I- I’m in love with you… I have been since I was fourteen.” 

 

“Simon” Baz breathed- and it fell from his lips like a prayer, or hunger, or a kiss. And then it  _ was  _ a kiss.

 

It was like a present, or a cake, or a newly-released book. It was something you wanted- something you wanted so badly that you longed, wished, dreamt for it. Something you waited, and waited, and waited for. Something you never thought you’d actually get. That was their kiss, and that was their love. It was Baz pushing and Simon tugging at dark hair and having to stop, having to breathe- because fires needed oxygen to survive, and they were burning up.

 

Baz pulled away first- breathing heavily, fingers still tangled in Simon’s hair. He kissed the other boys forehead, a tender gesture, and smiled. “I love you too, you absolute idiot.” Simon was still breathing like there was a hand on his throat, still breathing like he’d come up from the bottom of a swimming pool. His mouth hung open, he couldn’t keep it shut- he wasn’t even sure he could talk.

 

“But- I… You..” 

 

“I know.” Baz said- pressing a kiss on Simon’s throat. He couldn’t stop kissing the other boy- his cheeks, his jaw, his hairline, the spot beneath his ear, the moles on his neck. Tiny butterfly kisses as Simon toyed with the hem of Baz’s shirt- not meaning anything by it, just needing to do  _ something  _ with his hands. Baz spoke “I thought you didn’t like me either.”

 

“ _ Me _ ?” Simon replied. “Well, of course I liked you. I thought it was nearly obvious at this point!” 

 

Baz grinned. “Well it’s obvious  _ now _ .”

 

The golden-haired boy rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

 

“Hey Simon,” Baz said- kissing at the other boy’s neck again. “I like you.” 

 

“You love me.” Simon corrected, and cupped his best friend (boyfriend?)’s face in his hands, pulling him up for another kiss.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw this was posted by e_li_za bc me n carly are HELLA BROS!!!!! also hope u liked it lol


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz are best friends forever.

**_EPILOGUE: ONE YEAR LATER_ **

 

Simon waited on an uncomfortable metal bench, tapping his feet anxiously on the pavement while he waited for his boyfriend’s train to arrive. It had been a few weeks since they last saw each other in person- and it was practically torture- but they made due with Skype calls late into the night. Simon had gotten out of his first year of Uni a few days earlier, and made it back to his mostly-empty house in Hampshire without a hitch. 

 

He’d missed it while he was gone- the green, dew-covered pastures, the quaint coffee shops, and especially the Pitch estate. That house was his home away from home- Simon thought he’d done more growing up there than he ever had at his own house. He hadn’t seen Penelope and Agatha yet- they both ended up at the same college- some prestigious one in Wales that Simon couldn’t remember the name of. They were getting out a week after Baz- who had gotten on the train to Hampshire just that morning. 

 

Simon couldn't wait to see him. 

 

Of course, they saw each other often enough- nearly every weekend. Baz could afford to take the train down to London most Friday's, and occasionally Simon would take the train up to Cambridge- they always went to fancy dusk-until-dawn parties when he visited. He and Baz saw each other often enough, but they’d grown up together- being apart was like missing a limb. That’s why Simon was so excited- once Baz got to Hampshire, they could spend the whole summer together. No more shitty wifi connections and dying phones. No more waiting, and wishing, and wanting. 

 

The loudspeaker overhead crackled to life with an announcement. “The 10:30 train from Cambridge to Hampshire has arrived, and will be boarding for Lancanshire at 11:00. Thank you.”

 

Simon’s head jerked up from his phone, and he watched the train platform with rapt attention, searching for a dark head of hair among the crowd. Baz was there, somewhere, either still on the train- or milling around on the train platform with the other passengers. It was a few minutes before Simon spotted him- but when he saw the dark hair pulled out of Baz’s face and the soft white shirt he’d stolen the last time they were together- he started grinning. 

 

“Baz!” Simon called his boyfriend’s name into the crowd, and it got the other boy’s attention immediately. His grey eyes caught Simon, and then Baz was smiling, too. He walked towards the golden-haired boy, and soon enough they were hugging. It was a familiar thing- the feeling of their bodies pressed together after years of growing up side by side. Baz kissed Simon’s forehead. 

 

“Hello, love.” 

 

“I’m so glad to see you.” Simon said- still smiling widely. His cheeks hurt, and he reached for Baz’s hand- lacing their fingers together. They walked towards the exit of the train station together- and the dark-haired boy pulled his suitcase behind him. 

 

“I’m glad to see you, too. I’m glad to be home”

 

“Me, too.” Simon agreed. “But it’s not the same without you.”

 

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here.” Baz grinned. “Come on, idiot. Let’s go get lunch.” 

 

Simon scowled. “Are you ever going to stop calling me that?” 

 

“Not in a million years- it’s tradition now.”  

 

“Whatever, dork.”

 

“That’s tradition, too.” Baz quipped, and pulled his boyfriend along with him, out of the train station and into the beating summer sun. “And so are pancakes- I’m famished.” 

 

“I thought scones were tradition?” 

 

“Pancakes are, too- remember that time I made you get breakfast with me at two in the morning?”

 

Simon smiled. “I was almost falling asleep at the table.”

 

“I know,” Baz said. “It was cute.” 

 

“You’re ridiculous.” The other boy rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get you your beloved pancakes.”

 

“We can make scones with Mordelia later.” Baz promised. “She wants to see you- but mostly she just wants to say ‘I told you so.’ She knew I had a crush on you since we were fourteen.”

 

“At least  _ someone _ figured it out.” Simon laughed. “I was completely oblivious.”  The dark haired boy shrugged in response, and they kept walking- towards the diner in town. 

 

“I was oblivious, too. I never thought you’d like me.” 

 

“Baz,” Simon said seriously- and squeezed his boyfriend’s hand. “I’m always going to like you.” He paused, and stood on his toes to kiss Baz on the cheek. “I’m always going to love you.” 

 

The dark haired boy turned his head- pressing his lips to Simon’s. Baz didn’t even care that they were in public. He kissed his boyfriend softly, and pulled away. Their foreheads were still touching, and Baz smiled. “I’ll always love you, too.” 

  
  


**_THE END_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw this was posted by e_li_za bc me n carly are HELLA BROS!!!!! also hope u liked it lol

**Author's Note:**

> carly is mia at the moment so IM POSTING THIS THING. Y'ALL ARE WELCOME. come yell at me on tumblr at e-li-za.


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